


please, please me

by kattyshack



Series: festive ficlets [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Awkwardness, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Demisexuality, F/M, Humor, Introspection, Making Out, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Alternating, Praise Kink, Romance, Sex Shop, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Teasing, Texting, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/pseuds/kattyshack
Summary: Beth never expected that any part of her Valentine’s Day celebrations would involve browsing a sex shop, and Daryl never gave it enough thought to realize what a goddamn nightmare it would be if he somehow ended up in one.Life’s kinda funny like that.(title by the beatles. chapter titles from “when i get you alone” — the darren criss cover, bc i still got beef with robin thicke)
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Series: festive ficlets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529993
Comments: 152
Kudos: 214





	1. baby girl, where you at?

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: for those of you who don’t know, while i moonlight as a fanfic writer who can’t seem to write anything unless it ends in gratuitous cunnilingus, i sort of occasionally pay my bills by working at a sex shop. all the technical information in this fic (lubes, toys, etc.) is accurate and recommended. i can’t condense all my know-how in one fic, but i packed as much narratively relevant info as i could manage. any other lingering questions can be directed to my tumblr @majicmarker

“You gotta learn to get yourself off.”

To say that Beth is appalled by her best friend’s observation would be an understatement, and yet she’s not actually surprised at all. Offended, sure, because —

“I already know how to do that!”

“Oh, like how? Dry humping your spare pillow to completion?” Amy snorts, and breezes through a yellow light like it’s not about to blink on over to red. “Give me a break. You gotta give it some _pizzazz_.”

 _Pizzazz._ Right. It ain’t hard to figure that she and Amy aren’t actually headed to the IHOP as promised, so Beth can eat away her sort-of broken heart (it’s _complicated_ , okay?) in a stack of cupcake pancakes and several orders of turkey bacon.

She could be a good sport about it, but she’s _hungry_ , so when Amy parks the car outside Lucille’s Adult Novelties, Beth stays strapped into her seatbelt and levels her friend with a look she’d like to say it’s authoritative, but deep down in her heart she knows it’s kicked-puppy pathetic.

Oh, well. Needs must.

“We’re still going to IHOP, right?”

“God.” Amy scoffs as she kicks her own door open. “Fine, yes, I’m still gonna let you carbo-load, I’m not a monster.”

Well, that’s about the best Beth can hope for, so she dutifully follows Amy across the parking lot and into the shop, all the while enduring another lecture about the importance of self-care. Beth’s lost count of how many of these Amy has unloaded on her in the two weeks since she’d broken up with Zach, but she’d bet it’s cleared a dozen by now.

And she appreciates it, she does, only she’s starting to get a little insulted, too, because these speeches are so well-practiced she can only assume Amy’s had them shored up for awhile, and what does _that_ say about Beth’s ability to maintain a healthy romantic relationship?

Probably nothing good.

“Now, I know Valentine’s Day is your favorite and all, so you deserve to enjoy it all on your own. That’s why we’re here, but you know I gotta remind you of what it’s really about,” Amy’s saying as she leads Beth down an aisle of Jack Rabbits (which look more inclined to lead some kinda hostile robot takeover than to incite orgasm, but, whatever). “It’s a big-money patriarchal ploy to make women feel worse about themselves than we already do, so that we’ll fuel the economy in bulk purchases of boxed wine and the expensive ice cream because we deserve it since no one loves us.”

“Yeah,” Beth agrees, because she’s heard this before and, to be fair, Amy’s partly right, except — “Married people celebrate Valentine’s, too, though, y’know.”

Amy stops to pick up one of the rubber dildos that’s on display, and promptly whacks Beth in the bicep with it. She’s probably lucky Amy didn’t go for the face, but she still scowls, snatches it, and whacks Amy with it right back. It’s surprisingly — and a little unpleasantly — flexible.

“Married people don’t count, they’re not even real people,” Amy continues, entirely undeterred and wildly unreasonable. “Now c’mon, put that thing down, that’s not what we’re here for.”

It’s actually not a half-bad weapon, but Beth does as she’s told because she’s already got a switchblade she keeps on her, which is more practical than a nine-inch dildo and, anyway, chances are Amy didn’t bring her here for artillery.

No, what she brought her here for turns out to be a pretty rose-gold toy with a silicone top that, apparently, is gonna curl her toes and change her life.

“The _Satisfyer_ ,” Amy says, presenting the box with the sort of flourish usually reserved for game show hosts. “It simulates oral sex. And since you’ve never had a good experience with that in all your sweet young life, trust me, your world’s about to get rocked so hard you won’t even _need_ pancakes to get over Zach.”

“I still want pancakes,” Beth says, because she feels the need to make that _very_ clear, lest Amy try talking her into a caesar salad or something else that’s allegedly better for both her pores and digestion.

She takes the box, though, flips it around to read the back. “And I’m already over Zach, alright, I told you, I’ve been over it for awhile. It’s why we broke up.”

“And because he couldn’t get you off.”

Beth shrugs one shoulder. That’s partly true, but really it was just another problem that didn’t feel worth fixing; it was better to toss the whole relationship than try to patch up all the broken pieces, because it wasn’t going anywhere no matter what they did. It was just kinda _there_ , ‘til Beth decided it wasn’t anymore — ‘til she couldn’t ignore the fact anymore.

And that’s fine, it is, only she’s been moping around the past couple weeks because she’d forgotten what it was like to be lonely. Amy’s probably right, too, about how Valentine’s Day only makes you feel lousy unless you’ve got somebody, but all the same it’s Beth’s favorite holiday. She’s got a sweet tooth and she loves love, okay?

But, yeah, alright, maybe it’s getting to her in kind of a bad way this time around.

Not to mention she really hasn’t been getting off so much lately, so Amy’s probably right about the _Satisfyer_ , too, even if Beth feels sorts fidgety about buying a sex toy.

It’s got a nice name, at least. Beth didn’t realize how much of a relief that’d be ‘til Amy was poking around in the men’s section. Beth may be a good Christian girl, but she ain’t no spring chicken, but any which way she can’t figure what’s so enticing about a toy called “Slutty Asshole.” She’s been saying Hail Mary’s in her head since she clapped eyes on that one.

The women’s department, though, isn’t so bad. Some of them are actually kinda cute, like Sugar Bunny and Twirly Butterfly. Worst thing she’s seen over here is the Homewrecker, and while it makes her think twice about the hot dog of the same name at the downtown barbecue place, it’s not exactly in the same ballpark as “Teen Mouth,” which frankly makes her never want to speak to another man again. She had her fair share of crushes on older guys when she was a teenager (and, okay, _still_ , which is a whole other problem), but if any of them had ever looked twice at her _because_ of her age — because of her _teen mouth_ , Lord help her — well, that’s just a whole other lawsuit, ain’t it?

How do you even know the difference between mouths? Jeez, it makes Beth’s head spin, and lose track of her Hail Mary’s while she’s at it, too.

When she asks Amy if guys really like that sort of thing, she rolls her eyes, and grins in that kinda way that makes Beth regret everything she’s ever done that led her to asking the question at all.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Mr. Dixon wouldn’t be caught dead in here.” She snorts, grins some more. “Probably too busy thinkin’ about how to get you flat on your back, anyway.”

Beth snorts, too, but it’s all self-deprecation and no humor. “Yeah, right.”

That gets Amy rolling her eyes again, more dramatically this time. “We wouldn’t even be here if you’d just text him an _accidental_ clam shot.”

“Stop calling it that, jeez. I ain’t ‘accidentally’ sexting Daryl, alright?”

“Yeah, well, more fool you, I guess, ‘cause if he knew you wanted to jump on that he’d be on you in a second.”

They might’ve had this conversation more times than Amy’s lectured her about her own hideous self-esteem, so Beth’s long since run out of arguments to the contrary. She still thinks Amy’s nuts, but try telling _her_ that. Last time — some four-odd months ago, before Zach asked her out — she presented Beth with an honest-to-God PowerPoint presentation on the subject.

Sure, half the slides were nonsense, like: 

_Evidence that Mr. Dixon Wants to Take Beth to Bone Town:_

  * _Because he does._
  * _That’s it. That’s the whole slide. Moving on…_



And:

_Decoding Daryl Speak: What He Really Meant When He Said He’d Teach You How to Use His Crossbow, If You Want:_

  * _“Crossbow” is a euphemism._
  * _Euphemisms always have something to do with dicks._
  * _Ergo, he wants you to give him a handjob, please._
  * _But only if you want to._
  * _You definitely don’t have to._
  * _He still wants to pop that pussy, like, either way._
  * _And if maybe one day you’ll let him knock you up, that’d be cool, too._



And:

_How to Seduce A Man Who Is Already Obviously Practically Begging to Eat Your Pussy:_

  * _Just take off your panties and sit on his face, you coward._



And so on and so forth. Meanwhile, the other half of the slides were links to music videos. “Hungry Eyes,” “I’ll Make Love to You,” “Let’s Get It On,” that sort of thing, and, for some reason, “Space Jam.”

Beth still can’t quite suss that one out, but by now she knows better than to ask.

Anyway, point is, Amy takes Beth’s crush on Daryl a lot more seriously than Beth’s ever been able to, like it’s a foregone conclusion and Beth’s being illogical to think otherwise. Clearly, they’re in vastly different camps regarding the likelihood of anything ever actually _happening_. Beth’s an optimist, sure, but she’s still gotta draw the line somewhere, and that line just happens to be straight through all her deepest and most emotionally charged sexual fantasies.

Whatever. It’s _fine_.

Beth rides this train of thought past the toys and onto the racks of massage oils and lubricants, where Amy chatters off more of her excessive knowledge about how to masturbate productively.

“You have about a thousand options, but I know you got that damn sweet tooth, here, this one’s pink lemonade.”

Beth frowns slightly as she studies the bottle. “What d’you want me to do with it, lick it outta myself?”

“Lord Jesus, no. But let me _tell you_ ,” Any says, with a hand over her heart like she’s gotta keep her pulse in check, “there’s _nothing_ better than riding out your orgasm while you’re suckin’ on your own fingers when they taste like candy apple.”

“Huh.” Beth peruses the bottle further. Four ounces, water-based, hypoallergenic. “I don’t like candy apples all that much.”

“I know, that’s why I gave you the lemonade.”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to need lube? I’m only twenty-two.”

“Yeah, well, it ain’t always true that younger women don’t need it. You gotta take into account all sorts of factors. It’s real individualistic,” Amy explains casually, picking up a couple bottles of candy apple and caramel for herself. “You don’t hafta get it if you don’t want, but how easy is it for you to get wet?”

Well, it’s not like it’s _hard_ , usually, Beth thinks, frowning a little more as she considers it. Only sometimes she gets in her head about it, or she gets frustrated if she’s not ready and rarin’ to go as quick as she’d like. Sometimes she stops altogether and ain’t _that_ a real kick in the pants.

“Lube doesn’t hurt any, is my point,” Amy goes on when Beth stays locked up tight inside her own head. “Unless it’s KY. I don’t care what you use just so long as it’s not that.”

“You _don’t care_?” Beth echoes, a little on the incredulous side, all things considered. “I thought this whole thing was ‘cause you care too much.”

“KY’s made with glycerin, which breaks down to sugar, which breaks down to a yeast infection, okay, I care the appropriate amount. Here, get this, too” — she snatches another bottle from a nearby shelf and tosses it carelessly over her shoulder, like she knows it’s just her good luck that Beth’s got quick reflexes — “toy cleaner. You wash that thing with soap and water, you’re gonna ruin it and get another yeast infection.”

“Jeez” — Beth pulls a face, even as she tucks the bottles under her arm along with the _Satisfyer_ — “why does everything end in a yeast infection?”

“Because Eve ate the apple,” Amy deadpans, then taps the box. “Also because that toy is silicone, which is porous so soap can’t get in there to clean it right, it just clogs it up, so hello bacteria. Soap’s not good for your cooch, anyway, you’ve got a pH balance to maintain.”

“How do you know all this?”

Amy looks positively horrified. “I have a _vagina_.”

“I don’t mean about my pH balance, God.” Though, fine, it took Beth longer than she’d care to admit to learn that all her business is self-cleaning, but the point is she knows it _now_. “I just mean —”

Cripes, does she need to spell it out? ‘Cause she’s not gonna, so instead she waves the _Satisfyer_ with more flair than necessary, but she’s _overwhelmed_ , alright — “Just, _all this_.”

“Because, Beth, I love myself. High self-esteem helps you to achieve multiple orgasms.” Amy boops her on the nose, which doesn’t exactly help Beth feel all that better about herself right now, thanks. “Bet your therapist never told you _that_ , huh?”

Beth doesn’t say anything because, no, Dr. Joan _hadn’t_ told her that, and it wouldn’t have been especially appropriate if she had.

She’s about to point out the fact that she’s got a hard enough time explaining her feelings, let alone venting her sexual frustrations, to a sixty-year-old woman, professional or no, but then Amy’s gasping like she just got the wind knocked outta her, and Beth’s compelled to follow her line of sight, and —

Oh.

Oh, _no_.

“ _Jesus_ help me,” Beth mutters, and grips Amy’s arm, yanking her a couple feet to their left so they can hide safely around the corner that leads to the lingerie section. “Oh my God oh my God oh my _God_ —”

“Oh _my_ God,” Amy repeats, only she does so on a barely suppressed cackle. “Is it Valentine’s Day or my birthday? Unbelievable.”

Yeah, that’s _one_ word for spotting Daryl Dixon in a sex shop. The rest of them are words Beth’s too polite to say. 

The tips of his ears were flushed red and he was thumbing through the mildly inappropriate greeting cards, determinedly not looking at anything else, because “mildly inappropriate” is the best anybody can do at Lucille’s, but it’s definitely _him_ and he’s _here_ , like Beth’d been thinking about him too much and summoned him or something, because what on God’s green earth would he be doing here otherwise?

She groans and knocks her forehead against the wall. _Unbelievable._ “You can say that again.”

Amy’s peeking around the corner with all the genuine seriousness of some kinda secret agent. “Your suffering is delicious.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Schadenfreude?” she suggests, as completely unperturbed as ever. 

_“Ugh.”_ Beth peeks her head around the corner, too, ‘cause, imminent mortification or no, she just can’t help herself. “I don’t think you should be allowed in the psych program, you ain’t right in the head.”

Not like Beth’s any better off, no sir. She’s had this crush on Daryl for _ages_ , it’s stupid and painful and embarrassing, ‘cause what in the hell would he want with her when he seems perfectly content to be left alone? And she can live with that, ‘cause it’s loads better than if he went out on dates or anything like that, but sometimes it gets her hopes up and then she’s gotta spend days talking herself down even as she gets herself off to all the _maybe_ s and _what-if_ s.

Amy can tack all the lubricants and clitoral stimulants she wants onto Beth’s debit card, but if Daryl catches her here, it ain’t gonna matter ‘cause humiliation’s gonna drain her dry beyond any vibrating, sucking, thrusting, battery-powered — or, hell, _medical_ — help whatsoever.

“What is he _doing here_?” she demands in a furious, panicked whisper, just in case he might be able to hear her from several feet away over the easy listening channel on the shop’s radio.

Which, he probably can’t, but then again Daryl’s got some finely-tuned senses, and likely the only thing that’s saving Beth’s sorry hide here is his obvious discomfort and unwillingness to track his gaze anywhere that’s not right smack in front of him.

Amy’s shoulder bumps Beth’s chin when she shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe he came to check out the lingerie, y’know, wanted some new things to picture you in to file away in the ol’ spank bank.”

Beth whacks her with the _Satisfyer_ , and is indeed _satisfied_ when her friend swears at the sharp pain. Or she would be, only an ensuing panic attack’s taking up the vast majority of her emotional range right now.

“Shut _up_.” The plea tumbles out on half a shaky laugh, because she really is losing her mind here. “Oh my God, shut up, I can’t _believe_ this.”

“Me either,” Amy agrees, though much more happily. She raises her eyes to the ceiling, clasps her hands together, bottles of lube jutting out from between her fingers. “Thank you, Jesus.”

Beth’s about to wallop her again, but then —

“Well, woudja look at that?” An all-too-familiar whistle accompanies an even more familiar voice behind her. “Your daddy know whatchu gettin’ up to this fine afternoon, chickadee?”

 _Lord._ Beth doesn’t know what she did to deserve this, but it sure as shoot wasn’t worth it.

Her jaw tics when she turns around, but she forces a smile even as her panic hits its show-stopping crescendo.

“Hiya, Merle.”

“Howdy there, li’l miss.” Merle’s smile is yellow from too many cigarettes and not half as much toothpaste, but friendly enough all the same, even though Beth knows better than to buy it for a second.

He proves her right in half that time, too, when he jerks his chin over her head. “Whatchu spyin’ on my little brother for?”

“ _I’m_ spying,” Amy pipes up to correct him. “Beth’s hiding.”

“That right?” Merle says and, damn it, there ain’t no stopping the hot pink blush that bleeds from Beth’s hairline all the way down to her collarbones, because he’s gonna have her all figured out in a _minute_ , tops.

Folks can say what they like about the Dixon brothers, but they’re not stupid; nah, they can read anybody like a book, and Beth’s always been a pretty open one, besides. Merle might even have a sharper eye than Daryl, and they spark with something like an epiphany when he catches the nervous shuffle of Beth’s feet.

God, she is so, _so_ screwed.

“That right?” he says again, the words riding out on a whoop of laughter, and he whistles in his brother’s direction before Beth can so much as fake an excuse to run outta here with her tail between her legs.

_Hail Mary, full of grace…_

“Yoo-hoo, Daryl” — Merle’s grin stretches farther than any human face’s got a right to, and Beth just _knows_ she’s gonna need three stacks of pancakes, minimum, to get over _this_ — “lookee what we got here.”


	2. you makin’ dogs want to beg

Daryl would leave — would really, _really_ fuckin’ leave, he’d be the hell outta Dodge and then some by now — but Merle’s already locked him out of the truck and shoved the keys down his pants (not in his _pocket_ , no, but down the front of his Wrangler’s), so Daryl’s pretty much goddamn stuck here ‘til his brother’s ready to go.

And since they’re at a fucking _porn store_ , well, Daryl figures he might as well get comfortable, ‘cause he’s gonna die here.

Not like getting comfortable’s an option, hell no. He’d lent Merle his truck while he was working at the shop today, and when his brother picked him up and took the wrong exit, well, Daryl knew he was in trouble. Almost tuck and rolled right out onto the highway, but Merle clicked his tongue and then the child locks — Daryl didn’t even know his truck _had_ child locks — and said, “You gotta live a little, baby brother.”

But Merle didn’t drag him out here so Daryl could “live a little,” nah, jackass just didn’t feel like dropping him at the house first. Daryl’s profound discomfort is just an added bonus, far as his brother’s concerned.

Anyway, he’s not sure how looking at porn improves his quality of life, not that he’s ever seriously invested time in it ‘cause that shit makes him feel sick. He’s seen the shit Merle looks at and some of it’s pretty tame, sure, but then some of it’s _not_ and Daryl’d rather go blind on bad moonshine than have to look at any of it.

He’d’ve just stayed outside, only he’d probably look worse loitering around the front door than if he just came in. Last thing he needs is for the kid behind the counter to call the cops on the pissed-off redneck pacing the pavement in front of _Lucille’s_ , for Christ’s sake, so here he is. His fingers are itching for one of the Marlboros in his pocket, but the sign outside says _No Smoking_ and he’s pretty sure that means on the sidewalk, too.

God damn it.

He’s parked himself by the greeting cards display, because if he’s gonna look like some nasty perv who hasn’t bothered to so much as shower before feeding baser instincts he doesn’t even _have_ — but in his defense he was dragged here after working ten hours at the shop, so he can’t help his grungy coveralls — well, the least he can do is pretend he’s here for someone else’s sake. Not like he knows anybody besides Merle who’d get a laugh outta a birthday card about doggy style, but if he can’t smoke on the building’s property, this is the best he’s gonna do.

Like he ain’t already eyeball-deep in his own frenzied thoughts, his mind gets to wandering further as he flicks through stacks of cards he doesn’t actually wanna know the contents of. Most of ‘em are some garish shade of red or pink for goddamn _Valentine’s Day_ , which might be the single stupidest thing anybody’s ever gotten their panties in a twist over, but —

Alright. So. Okay, maybe it’s been getting to Daryl some, too.

Not that he cares about any of that shit — flowers and hearts and candy, goin’ all-out one day outta the year and pretending like that’s good enough. Seems to him the only guys who go in for the pricey dinners and chunky jewelry are the ones who fuck up the rest of the time, and they figure some overpriced bouquet’s their saving grace, when the reality of the thing’s that roses never did anybody any good. Fuckin’ things die in a couple days, what’s the _point_?

He frowns, and straightens up a stack of cards not-so-subtly about oral sex, which is the last thing he needs to be thinking about when he’s already thinking about Beth.

But he’s almost always thinking about her, anyhow, so what the hell, right?

 _She’s_ into all that flowers and hearts shit, that’s for sure. Has been as long as he’s known her. Used to annoy the fuck outta him, until he started to realize that that’s just how she is, all sweet and hopeful, and how she wants to make everybody else feel like that, too. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with buying people shit they don’t need; girl just likes to make ‘em smile.

Kinda knocks him clean off his feet, if Daryl’s honest with himself, and he usually is. He’s known a few good people in his life, but never anybody who’s good like Beth is — like she’s never had to think twice about it. That’s somethin’.

It got under his skin, that somethin’, and she makes him want to think twice about a fair few things himself.

About half those things he shouldn’t be thinking at all. Like how she spends all day outside, soakin’ up so much sun that that sorta brightness just fuckin’ bleeds outta her all the time. Or that curve of muscle in her calves, about how that expanse of skin looks smooth to the touch, but when her shorts ride up a little higher he can see the pale peach fuzz she leaves be at the top of her thighs. Or the way she laughs at her own dumbass jokes. And the twist of her fingers in her ponytail, and how he’d like to do whatever it takes to make her fingers do that to _his_ hair — how he wants her to pull it same as he wants to pull all sorts of sounds outta her. That laugh, and how he imagines she’d moan, her breathless voice in his ear sayin’ _please_ , tellin’ him how good it is, how good _he_ is.

He wants to make her smile. God damn it, he wants to make her smile around a punched-gut gasp when he fingers her just right, wants that dreamy, fucked-out grin after he’s made her come every which way she asks him to. Wants to see that smile first thing when he wakes up and the rest of the goddamn day, too.

He’d buy her all the damn flowers she wanted, if that’s something that’d make her happy. Doesn’t matter how stupid he thinks that shit is, ‘cause the point is he’s thinkin’ about _her_ when he does it.

But who knows if she wants him thinkin’ about her like that at all, and even if she did…

Daryl flicks through a couple more cards, not really seeing them. Well, she’s got herself a boyfriend, don’t she? Has done for a few months now, so she wouldn’t have no business kissin’ Daryl even if he got up the nerve to kiss her first. Ain’t like they got occasion to so much as hold hands, neither, so he can’t come up with any fair excuse to touch her, let alone lay her out on her back and show her how good he wants to be to her.

Which, y’know, isn’t to say that her boyfriend’s _not_ good to her. Zach’s an alright kid, but Daryl’d kick his ass if he thought the guy wasn’t being a right side better than _alright_ to Beth. Not like he wants to think about the two of them, but… Fuck, whatever, he just wants whoever the hell it is she’s with to treat her well, otherwise what the fuck’s she doin’ with them in the first place?

Drives him fuckin’ nuts that she’s with somebody.

Doesn’t need to be mulling all this shit over, not again, not _here_ , so he’s uncharacteristically relieved when he hears his brother whistle and call for him. Makes him feel like a damn dog, but maybe Merle’s ready to go, and that’s —

Shit.

Mighta been Merle who caught his attention, but it’s who’s standing next to him that makes Daryl wish the floor’d open up and swallow him whole.

Fuck him, but what the ever-living _shit_ is Beth doing here?

Can’t even muster up a guess before Merle’s waving him over. “C’mon, now, come say howdy to the li’l miss.”

Beth scowls something fierce when Merle calls her that, but her face looks just as sunburned as Daryl’s feels, so maybe he’s not the only one wishin’ this place would just fuckin’ set itself on fire right now.

If he thought being here to begin with was bad, it’s got nothing on how he feels _now_. He’s in sudden, express physical pain, but. _But._ He can do this. Right? That survival instinct ain’t for nothin’, and it’s gotta kick into high gear when Beth’s around, otherwise Daryl woulda dropped dead ages ago.

Kinda wishes he would’ve, actually, if it means he could avoid this entire situation. The bit about running into Beth at a porn store, fuckin’ _duh_ , he never had so much as a passing thought about this, but he’s also wiped from working doubles all week and his hands are smudged black and he’s got the top of his coveralls tied around his waist and the T-shirt he’s wearing is stained with dried sweat and he’s got oil and grease all over him and he’s _freaking the fuck out_ , alright, thinkin’ about what a filthy mess he is, and he can’t fuckin’ figure why this place has its radio tuned onto Conway Twitty unless they got hold of Rick’s Spotify or somethin’, but he’s about to lose his mind here and Beth’s just the cherry on goddamn _top_.

_Fuck._

He’s not about to let her know that, though. If she could read his mind right now, then she’d know how often she’s on it — and how he expressly didn’t flip open any of them cards about oral because he really, _really_ doesn’t need any help imagining doin’ that shit to her.

He pushes that outta his head for now — god knows he’s gonna think about it plenty later, he always goddamn does — and tries not to drag his feet as he approaches. Sets his mouth in a hard line while he’s at it, swallowing his nerves and biting out gruff words.

“The hell’re you doin’ here?”

“The hell’re _you_ doin’ here?” Beth shoots right back, and damn it if that doesn’t make that hard line twitch a little bit.

Daryl jerks a thumb at his brother, like it’s obvious. “Merle.”

Must be obvious enough, because Beth accepts the explanation with a nod, and then cocks her head towards her friend. “Amy.”

“Well, excuse me for tryna help.” Amy turns to Merle and Daryl, but levels a certain kinda _look_ at the latter that he’s not sure he appreciates. “She broke up with Zach, y’all know that?”

Daryl looks at Beth, so quick and sharp that his neck actually cricks, ‘cause no, he _didn’t_ fuckin’ know that.

Ain’t any of his business or nothin’, but — he averts his gaze, ‘cause she looked at him right back and he can’t _handle_ that shit — still. Woulda been nice to know, is all.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, nudges the pack of Marlboros and wishes like hell he could light one up right about now. Shakes his head, clears his throat but doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

That ain’t never been a problem for Merle, though, and for once Daryl’s happy to let his brother take the lead.

“Aw, you done called it quits with li’l sweet cheeks?” Merle coos, then hoots like he said something funny. “Boy looks like he ain’t ever done a thing wrong in his life.”

“Never done a whole lot right, neither,” Beth mutters, but it’s by no means hard to hear.

Her face glows pinker after she says it, like maybe she didn’t mean to and she wishes she hadn’t. The kinda pink she gets when she’s outside too long, when the sun’s blaring and she uses the hem of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her face, exposing the flat planes of her stomach, the jut of her hip, arm muscles tightening up as she scrubs her brow dry…

Mother _fuck_ , he really is gonna die here. Probably’d deserve to be struck down right about now, what with the way he’s looking at Beth, honed in on her like there’s nothing else to see here. There’s _plenty_ else — not like he wants to study plastic dicks too hard or anything, Christ, but they’re still _there_ — meanwhile he’s lapping her up with his eyes the way his mouth wants to do between her thighs.

Speaking of…

“She’s bitter, he never went down on her.” Amy prods a pink box out from underneath Beth’s elbow and waves it around. “Hence —”

Daryl’s only afforded a cursory glance of the thing before Beth’s grabbing it — “ _Amy_ , jeez!” — and shoving it back under her arm, out of sight. Not hard to figure what it is, though.

Well. Daryl’s fingers twitch some more. _That’ll_ be something to think about later, whether he should or not.

Lucky nobody else seems all that privy to what’s going on in his head. Beth’s too busy not looking anybody in the eye, Amy’s bickering with her, and Merle’s watching it all with rapt, nothin’ short of goddamn _delighted_ , attention.

“What?” Amy wants to know. “I’m not gonna protect Zach’s reputation here, he’s effin’ rude. Let’s get a man’s perspective, huh” — she turns once more to the Dixons, tips her chin up like she expects something outta them — “c’mon, what d’y’all think?”

Merle scratches through the stubble on his jaw, juts out his lower lip all thoughtful-like. “You suck him off?”

“I am _not_ answering that,” Beth says, at the same time Daryl smacks his brother upside the head hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

But. Okay. So maybe that boyfriend — ex-boyfriend — wasn’t so good to her, after all.

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is,” Amy continues, ignoring it when Merle punches Daryl in the arm and Daryl knocks his shoulder right back, “if a guy doesn’t wanna get one-upped by a toy, he oughta be willing to give you head _and_ emotional support, okay, otherwise what do we need ‘em for?”

“Hey, fair’s fair,” Merle agrees. “Tit for tat.”

“Don’t think that’s what that means,” Daryl mumbles around the thumbnail he’s taken to gnawing at. So much for swallowing his nerves, ‘cause he’s all keyed up on ‘em now.

“It’s not,” Beth mumbles back, just loud enough for Daryl to hear her since he’s the only one listening to her, anyway, now that Amy and Merle have taken off on some deep discussion about the importance of communication in relationships, Jesus _Christ_.

When the corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile for her, he lets it. Drops his hand away from his mouth and shoves it back into his pocket. “So, uh. Y’alright?”

Beth shrugs, adjusts the items under her arm like she doesn’t want him to see what they are. “M’fine. It was a long time comin’, y’know?”

“Weren’t with him all that long,” Daryl points out, like it hadn’t felt like a goddamn lifetime since he found out.

Christ. He’s a dumbass sap, ain’t he?

“Yeah, well…” Another shrug. “Just wasn’t working out. Kinda hard to deal with this time’a year, though, which —” She huffs out an irritated breath. It’s got a hint of laughter in it but no real humor. “You probably think that’s dumb. I know Valentine’s is just another day, it’s just… givin’ me more grief than I thought it would, I guess.”

“Don’t think it’s dumb,” Daryl counters lamely. Shoot, he’s gotta have something better than that. Never been much good with words, but he _knows_ he’s got something better for her.

He shuffles one of his feet, hands flexing in his pockets like they wanna reach out and touch her, only he won’t let them. “Don’t think you should feel lousy about it, either. You was always too good for him, anyhow.”

Beth blinks, eyes gone a little wider in surprise, cheeks flushing pinker in… pleasure, maybe? Daryl doesn’t know, just ducks his head to study the oil stains on his boots.

He can hear the soft smile in her voice, though, when she says, “Thanks, Daryl.”

He can’t find his voice again, so he clears his throat and nods stiffly. Chances a glance at her just so he can catch that smile he put on her face, the kind he thought about earlier.

Well. Least he can do _something_ right with this girl.

That about gets a smile outta him, too, ‘til Amy breaks through that bubble and says, “Well, we should get back at it, huh, Beth? Think there might be a chemise with your name on it over here, huh?”

Beth lifts her eyes to the fluorescents. “I swear to God —”

“Yeah, sure.” Amy grabs Beth’s free hand to tug her around the corner towards the racks of lace and silk, shooting a wink over her shoulder that Daryl _definitely_ doesn’t appreciate. “See y’all later!”

Fuckin’ great, yeah, ‘til then Daryl can ruin his own damn life thinking about Beth in a _chemise_ , and he doesn’t even know what the fuck that is. Not like it matters, really; he could get hard thinking about the tan lines on her biceps, so fuck him, right?

Christ. He _wishes_.

Least Merle doesn’t make him hang around the place any longer after that, otherwise Daryl might actually lose it for real and ask Beth if he can see her in one of the fitting rooms. Probably get the cops called on them sooner than if he’d had a smoke outside, but sure as hell more worth it.

But, nah. Merle stocks up on rubbers and they’re out of there. A right damn hassle as far as Daryl’s concerned, but then his brother’s reminding him of why this trip wasn’t a _complete_ shot to hell, after all.

“So,” he says as the truck rumbles out of Lucille’s parking lot, “the li’l miss ain’t got that boyfriend no more.”

“Yeah.” Daryl digs the Marlboros out of his pocket, shakes one out and lights the fuck up. _Finally._ “No shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Merle fiddles with the radio dial, voice raising enough to be heard over the crackle of static. “You gonna do somethin’ ‘bout that ‘fore she gets herself another one?”

Daryl’s not gonna answer that; not out loud, anyway. Doesn’t really know what to say. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, relishing the burn of it in his chest as it eats up the last of his rattled nerves. Knows what he _wants_ to say, sure, knows what he wants, period. He just doesn’t know if he should.

Or — damn it. He gnaws on the filter, sucks on it, feels the paper grow damp beneath the pressure of his tongue. Bites down on it between his lips and takes another deep inhale, slower this time, giving his mind a chance to catch up with all the thoughts been runnin’ around it since he stood at that greeting cards display.

Doesn’t take long for him to figure there’s only one thing in his dumbass brain that ever stays the same, that calms him down even as it riles him up, and that’s Beth.

So you know what? Fuck it.

Daryl takes the Marlboro out of his mouth, flicks it between his fingers and considers the smoldering tip of it.

_You gonna do somethin’ ‘bout that?_

“Guess I might.”

“Hell yeah.” Merle whoops, and stops fuckin’ with the radio dial when he finds the oldies station. Turns up the volume and shouts over the AC/DC, “That’s the shit I like to hear, little brother.”

Daryl rolls his eyes, but, truthfully, he’s pretty happy to hear himself sayin’ that shit, too.


	3. oh, i swear there’s something

**AMY** : so  
did u do it

 **BETH** : Do what?

 **AMY** : YOU KNOW

 **BETH** : If this is about me texting a naked picture of myself to Daryl again, no, I haven’t, and I’m not gonna.

 **AMY** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Let the dream die, Amy.

 **AMY** : can’t believe u’d do mr. dixon dirty like this

 **BETH** : Some might argue that this is the least dirty route to take, actually.

 **AMY** : you like him ‘cause he’s a good guy, right? like  
an ACTUAL good guy  
not one a them guys who thinks they’re Nice just bc they like lord of the rings and don’t know how to ride a motorcycle or whatever, and they pretend that counts as having ethics and a personality

 **BETH** : You should be a guest speaker at colleges, y’know. You could go on tour.

 **AMY** : “random chick tells u to get a grip and u should listen to her bc she’s got half her psych credits and no one wants to sleep with u anyway”  
yeah i like the sound of that

 **AMY** : anyway my point is that you like daryl bc he’s a good guy  
and a good guy deserves to see the LOVE OF HIS LIFE in the cute lingerie her best friend barely had to talk her into buying, bc she can act all sweet southern coy but she KNOWS she looks bangin’

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : daryl should know too u should tell him

 **BETH** : He’d have an aneurysm!!

 **AMY** : yeah that’s how u know it’s Real

 **BETH** : ?? WHAT’S ““real””??

 **AMY** : the true love, babey

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : You’re nuts.

 **AMY** : oh so u don’t think you look bangin?

 **BETH** : No, I do. That’s the most reasonable thing you’ve said in days.

 **AMY** : second only to “mr. dixon wants to lay u out like an elaborate sushi dinner”

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Y’know what, there’s so many things wrong with what you just said, I don’t even know where to begin.

 **AMY** : well if you’d just listen to me for once in ur life and jump on that dick, then i wouldn't have to keep comin up with increasingly terrible metaphors for how much he wants to eat u alive

 **BETH** : It sounds awful when you put it like that.

 **AMY** : oh pls you’re gonna love it

 **BETH** : You say that like it’s actually gonna happen.

 **AMY** : and it will  
if you’d just put on that lil green thing u got and make daryl’s whole gd life worthwhile

 **BETH** : JEEZ  
Are you trying to make me bust a blood vessel or somethin??

 **AMY** : no the only thing i am TRYING is to get you laid

 **BETH** : I thought the whole point of the vibrator was that I wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore!

 **AMY** : yeah well you can’t make out with a vibrator  
i mean, i guess you could, but i wouldn’t recommend it ‘cause it’s effin weird  
besides you been wantin to play seven minutes in heaven with mr. dixon ever since he rode up to the farm on his motorbike when you were sixteen

 **AMY** : SIXTEEN, BETH  
for real u need to get on that dick it’s been like six years

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : god that’s so depressing

 **BETH** : You don’t gotta tell me.

 **AMY** : clearly i DO

 **AMY** : listen you have an OPPORTUNITY here, beth  
you can make your wildest fantasies a reality on the MOST ROMANTIC DAY OF THE YEAR  
or whatever idk valentine’s day is just capitalism exploiting our tender emotions

 **BETH** : Not this again.

 **AMY** : BUT!!!

 **AMY** : it’s your favorite day  
god knows why, u fuckin nerd  
but you have the chance to do something with this day that’s like, worth more than a $17 box of chocolates that has no business being $17 in the first place  
meanwhile some of us are gonna have to get plowed by jimmy if we want to feel at least remotely appreciated

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : You’re sleeping with Jimmy??

 **AMY** : he is occasionally taking care of my baser impulses, yes

 **BETH** : :DD  
Are you DATING??

 **AMY** : ugh absolutely not

 **BETH** : You guys are gonna get married.  
I can feel it.

 **AMY** : yeah u go on and feel that as much as u want  
maybe get to feelin mr. dixon’s mouth on ur snatch while you’re at it

 **BETH** : JESUS, AMY

 **AMY** : quit tryna change the subject

 **BETH** : I’m not sending a picture of me in lingerie to Daryl. It’d give him a heart attack.

 **AMY** : please. that man has minor cardiac arrest every time he sees you, period  
might as well make it worth his while every now and then

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : god y’know it’s actually startin to piss me off that you don’t see how he looks at you  
and you know i hate romantic cliches like that ‘cause they don’t MEAN anything you just gotta ASSUME ”the way he looks at you” is the most profound thing that’s ever gonna happen to u  
and that’s dumb as hell

 **AMY** : but the thing is, beth, i swear to god, he /does/ look at you some kinda way  
like he really wishes you could just read his mind, ‘cause he’s got a whole lot to say to you but he doesn’t know how to do it, so won’t you please just take the damn hint and KNOW it already bc how the freaking HELL can he make it more obvious?

 **BETH** : Forget psychiatry, why ain’t you writing romance novels for a living?

 **AMY** : i don’t have the temperament for it honestly think i’m developing an ulcer just thinking about it

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : You really think he likes me?

 **AMY** : YES  
i wouldn’t tell you to simply pounce on him at the earliest available opportunity if i thought he wasn’t gonna immediately reciprocate

 **AMY** : i’m relentless because i CARE

 **BETH** : Yeah? That why you waved my vibrator around like a baton in front of him at Lucille’s the other day?

 **AMY** : masturbation is nothing to be ashamed of, beth. it’s natural i mean that’s what your clit’s FOR literally all it does is elicit orgasm

 **BETH** : Guess I can’t deny the logic of that.

 **AMY** : besides, the man should know what he’s up against  
really put that grungy mouth to good use

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : y’know, I bet some folks’ll be surprised when y’all make it Official. not me, tho. i know my girl likes herself a workin man

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : talk about aneurysms honestly i’m surprised we didn’t have to call the EMTs when u saw daryl all dirtied up at the store

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : god did you go home after IHOP and just immediately ride ur vibe to that picture of him in ur head?? worked off all them calories from those several medically ill-advised orders of pancakes? and u didn’t TELL ME ABOUT IT??

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : well i hope you at least used the toy cleaner on it first. u know that stuff’s just packaged and sent straight out to distributors, they’re not clean just ‘cause they’re new

 **BETH** : I haven’t, um  
Used it yet

 **AMY** : ……………………wat

 **AMY** : you’ve had it for TWO DAYS  
honestly i don’t understand how u spend your free time

 **BETH** : I just can’t get in the mood.

 **AMY** : that’s what the lube’s for

 **BETH** : I know what lube’s for, jeez.  
I mean, like, mentally.

 **AMY** : maybe you oughta go visit daryl at work  
see him in action ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
bring him a sandwich or smthn be like “oh i was just in the neighborhood”~~

 **BETH** : Fat chance of that workin. I’d have to take two buses to get to that neighborhood.

 **AMY** : god do you want my advice or not??

 **BETH** : Does it MATTER?

 **AMY** : no

 **AMY** : though, fine, i concede your point that maybe that wouldn’t come off casual so much as it would Profusely Intentional  
but then again he’s a straightforward kinda guy u know maybe he’d be into that

 **BETH** : I don’t think me ambushing Daryl at work’d make him too happy.

 **AMY** : would if u wore the lil green thing under a trenchcoat  
took him back to the office and just let him go ham on your pussy, y’know, whatever

 **BETH** : I don’t HAVE a trenchcoat!

 **AMY** : well i’m just glad to know the idea has enough appeal to u that you didn’t shut it down outright

 **BETH** : Sigh.

 **AMY** : you sound stressed, buttercup  
you know what’s good for stress

 **BETH** : Blocking your number?

 **AMY** : a bubble bath  
the satisfyer’s waterproof  
i mean, you can’t use the lube in the bath, it’s water-based which is way better for you and the toy than silicone, HOWEVER, it’ll just wash right off

 **AMY** : but a good tub & rub should do the trick anyway

 **BETH** : I’ll think about it.

 **AMY** : also maybe think about sending daryl a bathtub selfie

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : on second thought bubbles are a mighty step up from lingerie so maybe put a pin in that ‘til after he sees you naked irl  
i don’t want to murder the guy

 **BETH** : Yeah, you’re real considerate.

 **AMY** : i know, i’m the best  
anyhoo lemme know how it goes  
and think about what i said!!

 **BETH** : Which part?? You talk A Lot.

 **AMY** : literally every part  
i know you’re already torturing yourself over whether or not daryl likes you (he does), so you might as well consider my voice in your head too so you don’t drown completely in your anxieties

 **BETH** : …that’s a fair point, actually.  
Alright. I can do that.

 **AMY** : and you said i shouldn’t be allowed in the psych program smh

* * *

**DARYL** : gotta ask you somethin

 **RICK** : You’re texting me?

 **DARYL** : don’t wanna look at ur fuckin face when i ask

 **RICK** : This oughta be good

 **DARYL** : fuck you  
what kinda flowers does beth like

 **RICK** : Fuck YOU  
I knew you were sweet on my babysitter

 **DARYL** : just answer the damn question

 **RICK** : Hold on I’ll ask Carl

 **DARYL** : what? no don’t fuckin ask carl  
how many goddamn people gotta know about this?

 **RICK** : He said anything yellow

 **DARYL** : christ

 **RICK** : Also wanted me to tell you not to hurt her feelings

 **DARYL** : not gonna  
sorta the point of gettin her flowers in the first place, damn

 **RICK** : Sure you ain’t just trying to get fresh with her?

 **DARYL** : the hell’s that even mean? fuck you

 **RICK** : You got a funny way of showing your appreciation, man

 **DARYL** : i hope the engine falls outta your cruiser

 **RICK** : And I hope Beth likes her flowers

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **RICK** : Yeah yeah, fuck me, I get it

 **DARYL** : how’d you know i was gonna say that

 **RICK** : Man it ain’t rocket science, that’s about the only thing you ever say

 **DARYL** : yeah well  
cuz you’re an asshole

 **RICK** : Save the sweet talk for Beth, why don’t ya?

 **DARYL** : so you ain’t gonna arrest me?

 **RICK** : For having a crush on Beth? I’d have to arrest half the damn town

 **DARYL** : yeah don’t fuckin remind me

 **RICK** : Never took you for the jealous type

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : ain’t jealous

 **RICK** : Uh-huh.

 **DARYL** : she ain’t allergic to nothin?

 **RICK** : Real smooth change of subject. Nah, she isn’t.

 **DARYL** : alright

 **DARYL** : u know i think this is real fuckin stupid

 **RICK** : That what you’re gonna write on the card?

 **DARYL** : i gotta write somethin on a card? ?

 **RICK** : God, man, you’re worse than Carl

 **DARYL** : kid’s liked about a dozen different girls already okay i dunno what the fuck i’m doin

 **RICK** : Well, good on you for pickin Beth, then. She’s not gonna care about some big gesture, you know she ain’t the type

 **DARYL** : yeah  
i know

 **RICK** : Just give her the flowers and tell her how you feel.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : damn it

 **RICK** : Forgot you were gonna have to talk to her too, didn’t you?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : fuck you

 **RICK** : Fair enough.

* * *

**DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Daryl, are you tryna text me or did you sit on your phone again?

 **DARYL** : shut up  
tryna text you

 **BETH** : Oh? :)

 **DARYL** : don’t u fuckin smirk at me

 **BETH** : I’m /not/, I’m just bein polite!

 **DARYL** : bein a smartass

 **BETH** : If I had a dollar for every time you called me that, I could put a down payment on my own house.

 **DARYL** : the fuck u need a house for?

 **BETH** : Think you’re missing the point of what I was sayin.

 **DARYL** : you was bein a dick again

 **BETH** : I was bein a WHAT, excuse me?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : You got a lotta nerve talking to me like that.

 **DARYL** : well quit bein an asshole and i won’t call u that shit

 **BETH** : Is this really what you texted me for?

 **DARYL** : don’t really remember now

 **BETH** : (╯◕_◕)╯

 **DARYL** : girl u know i hate when u send me those fuckin things

 **BETH** : What scares you more, them little faces or Maggie?

 **DARYL** : ain’t scared of em  
ain’t scared a your goddamn sister, neither

 **BETH** : You won’t even come to the house if you know she’s here!

 **DARYL** : cuz she’ll probably shoot me for no damn good reason  
that don’t mean i’m scared. just means i’m not a dumbass

 **BETH** : What would she shoot you for??

 **DARYL** : uh

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : dunno. target practice?

 **BETH** : Oh, but you ain’t scared of her? Sure.

 **DARYL** : girl u ever been shot before? shit hurts

 **BETH** : /You/ been shot before?

 **DARYL** : coupla times. always merle’s fault for bein a fuckin idiot.

 **BETH** : Are you okay??

 **DARYL** : what? yeah i’m fine. that was ages ago and they’s all jus flesh wounds, anyway  
can point out the scars to u next time i see you if u want

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Yeah, alright.  
Guess I oughta see what you’re so scared of Maggie about, right?

 **DARYL** : i swear to fuckin god

 **BETH** : :D

 **DARYL** : texted u to see how you was doin but ur bein such a pain in the ass i guess you’re alright

 **BETH** : Thought you didn’t remember why you texted me? :p

 **DARYL** : didn’t for a second but then u pissed me off

 **BETH** : Well, to answer your question, yeah, I’m doin fine.  
Is this about Zach again?

 **DARYL** : yeah

 **BETH** : It was just a breakup. Ain’t that big of a deal, I told you.

 **DARYL** : liked him enough to go out with him. figured u might be kinda busted up about it endin.

 **BETH** : He was real nice and all, mostly, I just  
Wasn’t really what I wanted, I guess.

 **DARYL** : what, you want someone who’s gonna be a dick to u?  
gonna get my ass arrested for assault, you go out with somebody like that

 **BETH** : ‘Course not! But just ‘cause Zach was nice, that don’t mean we should be together. You can’t make a relationship work just because of one good thing.

 **DARYL** : guess not

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : And you don’t gotta ASSAULT nobody over me, sheesh.

 **DARYL** : would, tho

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : That’s probably the most romantic thing I’m gonna hear this Valentine’s, so I don’t want you thinkin I condone violence, but… thanks. :)

 **DARYL** : knock that shit off

 **BETH** : WHAT shit??

 **DARYL** : thankin me for givin a shit about you  
and watch your damn mouth, too

 **BETH** : (◔_◔)  
You’re bananas.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : don’t think anybody’s ever said that to me before

 **BETH** : Yeah, I bet not.

 **DARYL** : you tryna piss me off again?

 **BETH** : I’m almost never trying to piss you off on purpose, y’know. Ain’t my fault you’re such a grump.

 **DARYL** : ain’t no grump  
you’re just annoyin

 **BETH** : Most folks think I’m friendly.

 **DARYL** : most folks don’t gotta deal with ur ass much as i do

 **BETH** : YOU’RE the one who texted /me/.

 **DARYL** : yeah well

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : shut the hell up

 **BETH** : Gonna make me call you bananas again.

 **DARYL** : better fuckin not

 **BETH** : What if I just start sendin you pictures of ‘em?

 **DARYL** : christ  
ain’t you got anythin better to do?

 **BETH** : Not really.

 **DARYL** : why don’t u go outside, help your dad patch up that leak in the barn roof

 **BETH** : He said you were taking care of that.

 **DARYL** : fine then u can help me

 **BETH** : You gonna come over?

 **DARYL** : if it’ll stop u sendin me dumbass pictures, yeah

 **BETH** : Don’t think I can annoy you in person, huh?

 **DARYL** : girl i know you goddamn can  
just gonna push u off the roof if you do it

 **BETH** : I guess that’s fair.  
See you in half an hour?

 **DARYL** : yeah  
put some goddamn sunscreen on this time, too  
gonna fry ur ass if you don’t start usin spf 80 or some shit

 **BETH** : (◔_◔) Yes, sir, Mr. Dixon.

 **DARYL** : smartass

 **BETH** : Aaaaand /that’s/ another dollar in the starter home jar.

 **DARYL** : fuckin unbelievable

 **BETH** : ;D


	4. and i want it bad

She said half an hour, but Beth figures she’s got at least forty-five minutes before Daryl pulls his truck into the dirt drive. He’s a punctual kinda guy, _reliable_ , but he also doesn’t like it when Beth complains about how he stinks like cigarettes. He ain’t gonna stop smoking, but he’ll finish up before he parks and spray down his truck with the air freshener he’s taken to keeping in the cup holder. Beth’s seen it there, and lately he’s smelled more like “ocean breeze” than Marlboros, so she _knows_ that’s what he’s doing.

She appreciates the effort — she’s not gonna say that to him, he’ll just get grouchy that she noticed — and she appreciates the extra time it gives her right now, too, ‘cause she needs to _think_.

Seems like that’s all she’s been doing lately, all that _thinking_ , but she’s got a lot to suss out, alright?

And, actually, thinking about that air freshener in Daryl’s cup holder ain’t helping any, because what does he even have it for, if Amy’s not right about all those things she’s been saying?

Not that Beth doesn’t want Amy to be right. It’s just…

Well, she just got herself out of one relationship that wasn’t working, and maybe she’s just not all that keen on messing something up again.

She’s been telling everyone she’s fine, and she is; at least, she’s fine about what they all assume she’s _not fine_ about. She doesn’t miss Zach, doesn’t regret calling it quits.

Because the thing about Zach, is that he was nice and sweet and mostly fun to be around, and that was okay at first — it was _good_ at first — but then all it was was mostly fun and, contrary to popular belief, fun gets boring. It gets dull and shallow and then it’s just empty, and it turns out his jokes weren’t all that funny and he never really understood it when Beth tried to really talk to him. She’s not gonna blame him for that; they just weren’t made to last. Probably weren’t made to make it past a little flirtation, but then Beth had gone and said okay when he asked for a date, because without all the hindsight, why wouldn’t she?

Her long-winded crush on Daryl notwithstanding, ‘course, but that was never gonna be more than a crush. At least, Beth never thought so — not when she forced herself to be reasonable about it, when she shook herself of the _well, maybe_ that plagued her whenever Daryl teased her or laughed at somethin’ she said or looked at her a little longer than he had to, eyes gone all soft and the usually hard line of his mouth even softer —

But, jeez, c’mon. Just because Daryl called her a smartass or huffed and told her to shut the hell up when she made a joke at his expense — because that’s as much as he ever _teases_ or _laughs_ — that don’t mean he likes her. It just means he’s used to her.

Or maybe…

Well, here she goes again, but maybe Amy’s onto something here. Maybe all that _does_ mean he likes her.

After all, boys’ve liked Beth before, she knows what it looks like. And Daryl’s different, yeah, like he’s never talked to her chest when the collar of her shirt’s riding low, he’s never tried to cop a feel or text her “wyd” at eleven P.M. on a Tuesday, but maybe that just means he _actually likes her_. Doesn’t just think she’s cute or have some weirdo preoccupation with getting to third base in the hayloft. Maybe he just wants her, like Amy said, but he’s not gonna try to make her want him back unless she already does.

And, God, but she really, _really_ does.

Beth sighs, flops back on her pillow. She should get up, get her boots on and wait outside for Daryl, but she’s still got time to spare and a full head of thoughts she don’t need to be thinkin’ when he shows up.

She flips her switchblade open and then shut just as quick. Daryl told her it wasn’t a toy soon as he gave it to her on her birthday last year. It was her twenty-first, and he said she was gonna need something to fend off “all them assholes at the bar.” As if Beth even drinks all that much, but she does go out with her friends some weekends, and anyway the switchblade was about the only thing Daryl and Maggie ever agreed on, so Beth figured there must be a point to it.

No point to it at the moment, though, so Beth tosses it into her half-open bedside drawer. It lands with a soft sorta sound — not metal on wood, but metal on a sleek cardboard box she’s only opened the once, just to take a look at what she’d be working with and charge it up for when she was ready to use it.

_Hmmm…_

She casts a look at that drawer, then at the time on her phone screen. Not a whole lot to spare, but maybe enough, considering how wound-up she’s been. All that thinking’s been kicking the mood right out of her lately, but it’s been a few days since Amy tricked her into going to Lucille’s, and maybe this is just the tension-breaker she needs before spending the afternoon in close proximity to Daryl.

He looked good that day, too. Real good. Amy can make fun all she wants, but she was right about Beth’s… _appreciation_ for the way Daryl looks when he’s been on a job. All dirtied up from working with his hands all day, jeez, she’d like for him to work on _her_ with those hands. Broad palms, the callused pads of his thick fingers, suntanned and a little on the dry side but, gosh damn it, that scrape of skin up her thigh would be _delicious_.

Not like that’s about to happen. Even if Amy and her own growing suspicions are right, because it ain’t like he’s even at the farm yet and it’s not like he’d make his way straight to her bedroom, besides, so Beth yanks the drawer open all the way because, well.

She’s gotta try _something_ , right?

Only — dang it, Amy told her to clean it first, didn’t she? Beth snatches up the toy cleaner from the drawer, too, heads to the bathroom and makes quick work of it. Anticipation is starting to creep up, sending shockwaves straight to her nerves, because thinking about Daryl’s got her all keyed up now that he’s on his way to her house. There’s a kinda thrill to it, and it’s got her thighs tightening up around nothing but that tingly feeling she gets low in her gut whenever she feels like getting off.

She grabs the bottle of lube, anyway, once she’s locked her door and rolled back onto her mattress. She can feel the slightest dampness between her legs, that restless sorta feeling, but she doesn’t have time to stoke it without a little help.

She kicks off her jeans, leaves her underwear on so maybe she won’t get lube all over the comforter she just washed a couple days ago. Ain’t about to explain to Maggie why she needs to wash her sheets again, because it’s just like her sister to ask.

The first splash of lube to her pussy is a cool, pleasant shock, and the sweet smell of lemonade mixes with her own musk. She shuts her eyes tight, pretends that wet glide is Daryl’s tongue on her cunt instead, and that’s —

 _Jesus_ , that helps things along, doesn’t it?

She fumbles with the _Satisfyer_ , switches it on and clicks it to the fifth setting. She licks the taste of pink lemonade off her fingers — dang, Amy was right about that, too (Beth resolves never to tell her, but knows she’ll crack as soon as Amy asks, and she _will_ ) — and uses her other hand to shove the toy down her underwear and over her clit.

She’s not exactly all set to go here, but she’s gotta make do with the time she’s got, and it feels good enough to keep at it.

And, _jeez_ , this thing’s gonna get her to swearing up a storm. It pulsates over her clit like the persistent flick of a tongue, like heavy breath fanning over her mound and right inside of her when she tilts her hips up. Not much to do with it but let it sit on her clit and get to work, but Beth can’t help the urge to move along with it, give herself the sensation that it’s not a vibrator but _Daryl_ in the cradle of her legs.

Her breath stutters out when she thinks that, about him shouldering her thighs apart — and she spreads them farther all on her own to accommodate the fantasy — rough mouth lapping her up as he mumbles into her pussy about how good she tastes, about how he wants to make her come, about how he’s _been_ wanting it and ain’t she gonna be a good girl and give it to him?

He ain’t much of a talker usually but, damn it, this is _her_ fantasy and she wants him to tell her all about his single-minded obsession with going down on her ‘til her nerve endings burst apart with the ferocity of his tongue up her cunt.

Just thinking about it, muscles rippling with the vibration pattern, makes her moan. It’s this high, breathy thing she thinks might make Daryl’s eyes cross if he heard it, and she flicks the _Satisfyer_ up to a seven ‘cause she wants him to eat her harder.

Her toes curl into the sheets, yanking them off one corner of her bed as she thinks about Daryl’s hips rutting into the mattress, how hard it’d make him just watching her ride the strong line of his jaw. God, she wants him to want that, so bad it makes her next moan shatter on a sob, makes her dig her teeth into her bottom lip as she flicks the vibrations to an eight, nine, _ten_ , makes her toes uncurl and her foot slam hard into the bed before curling again.

 _“Fuck,”_ she curses, just this side of helpless, as she rears up, curling around the toy down her underwear while her free hand grips the edge of her bedside table. She wants to wrap her fingers through Daryl’s hair, wants to dig deep into the roots and _pull_ , so he knows how much she likes it, how outta control it makes her when he groans into her pussy.

She pushes the _Satisfyer_ up to an eleven, wishes it could go higher, wishes she could get Daryl’s mouth on her, those callused fingers in her, wants to know how much harder, faster, he’d go for her if she begged him to do it. If she just told him she wanted it, if she said _please_ , if she told him how _good_ he’s making her feel, _God_ —

_“Damn it!”_

The sudden, shrill ringing of her phone, clattering as it vibrates across her desk, makes Beth shout the curse out loud. She drops the _Satisfyer_ so it tumbles off her clit, accidentally smacks it right off her midsection and onto the floor where it makes a racket, thank God nobody else’s home —

“Hello?” she says as soon as she’s picked up, and snatches the toy off her throw rug and turns it off. She’s breathless and sweaty and annoyed, she’d been _this close_ to coming, and whoever just scared the bejeezus — and the promising orgasm — straight outta her better have a damn good reason for it.

“What the fuck’s the sass for?”

Oh, Jesus. The gruff rasp of Daryl’s voice over the receiver is like an open-palmed slap right to Beth’s almost-sated clit, and only serves to frustrate her near tears.

“What sass?” she asks. “I just said hello.”

“Got a damn attitude about it.”

“ _You_ got a damn attitude.”

“Girl, what the fuck?” Daryl huffs. Beth imagines it’s an exhalation of smoke, and then she imagines him blowing his hot breath into her pussy and she just. Wants to _die_. “Ain’t even there yet an’ you’re already pissin’ me off.”

If he wants to talk _pissed_ , well, Beth’d be all too happy to tell him about what he just interrupted, and if he’s gonna be like that then he’d better finish her off soon’s he gets here.

She won’t say that, obviously, but she’s gonna need another minute to scream into her pillow if she wants to get through the rest of the day.

“You’re always pissed off,” she grumbles, a little bratty, but like she could muster up the wherewithal to care right about now.

“‘Cause you’re always mouthin’ off.”

It’s Beth’s turn to huff. “This what you called me for?”

“Nah. Almost there. Was gonna ask you to grab that toolbox outta the mudroom, meet me out by the barn.”

“Yes, sir.” She sticks her tongue out, too; not ‘cause he’d be able to tell if she was, only it makes her feel a little better.

“Watch it.” Dang it, but that growl in his voice licks up her insides and gets her nerves to twitching all over again.

Beth rolls her eyes as she collects the _Satisfyer_ and the toy cleaner, heads to the bathroom to wash up. She cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, asks, “Or what? You gonna do somethin’ ‘bout my smart mouth, Mr. Dixon?”

There’s a beat, long enough that usually it’d make Beth think twice about what she just said and want to crawl under her floorboards once she realized the implications. She _does_ realize them, is the thing; she’s just too on the edge of wound-up to care.

She’s finished cleaning the vibrator and tucked it safely away into its antibacterial storage bag before Daryl manages to say anything. Beth would be inclined to think he’d hung up on her, except she could hear him swallow, clear his throat a couple times before he tells her, “Told you, gonna push you off the damn roof.”

“No, you ain’t.” Beth snorts as she heads back to her bedroom. “I’m not even outside yet, anyway.”

“Girl, get your ass out here ‘fore I come in there and get you myself.”

Oh, she wishes he _would_. Jerk.

(That’s probably unfair. But Beth doesn’t care about that, either.)

“I don’t got pants on.”

Another beat. Daryl swears, low and hot, and — screw it — Beth cups a hand over her underwear and rubs at her cunt, just to relieve the ache for a _second_ , God. She bites back the whimper that near crashes outta her mouth when pleasure zings straight up her spine and then back down to her toes.

“Don’t tell me that shit, girl, Jesus,” Daryl mutters. “Ain’t lookin’ to get my ass arrested.”

“Arrested for what?” Beth wants to know as she slings a pair of jeans over her hips. Doesn’t bother changing her underwear, though she can still smell the pink lemonade musk clinging to the cotton. “Sometimes I don’t got pants on, jeez. I’m naked when I take a shower, too, who cares?”

She’s baiting him, deliberately pissing him off even though she just told him earlier she’d never do that on purpose. And, truthfully, she usually wouldn’t. Doesn’t make a habit of it or anything, but what can she say, huh? Sexual frustration changes a person.

Daryl swears some more, tells her to _just hurry the fuck up, alright?_ , and then the call clicks off. She should’ve expected as much, and frankly she’s surprised he put up with her as long as he did. Only a few minutes, sure, but Daryl’s not the most patient guy when you annoy the hell outta him like she’d been angling to do.

If she’s gonna be frustrated, well, he can be irritated right along with her, right?

Beth pulls on her boots, grabs the toolbox from the mudroom like he asked, and the sunblock, ‘cause he’s gonna get on her ass about that, too.

Sheesh, she really knows how to pick ‘em.

Now Beth rolls her eyes at herself, because she knows damn well half of Daryl’s appeal is that he’s always scolding her to take care of herself. Even if he wouldn’t put it like that, that’s just what it is, and Beth’s already on the verge of saying something like _Daddy, please_ straight to his face, okay, she doesn’t _need this_.

By the looks of it, Daryl doesn’t need her attitude, either. He narrows his eyes as she stomps her way across the grass towards the barn, takes the toolbox out of her arms before she can throw it at him like she was thinking about doing.

Probably wouldn’t, but it’d serve him right if she did.

So maybe trying to get off before he showed up wasn’t her brightest idea, after all.

“Hell’s wrong with you?” he wants to know, but then again maybe he wouldn’t, if he had any idea that her _problem_ is that he hasn’t gotten well up into her personal space yet.

“Nothin’.” Beth shrugs before folding her arms over her chest, bottle of sunblock digging into her elbow. “Maybe you’re just grumpier than usual, you ever think of that?”

His mouth twitches into a scowl. “Ain’t _grumpy_.”

So now he’s gonna mope, is that it? Beth resists the urge to stamp her foot, and in the same breath reminds him, “And you call _me_ a brat.”

“Uh-huh.” Daryl mimics her pose, arms across his chest, and she tries to ignore the ripple of muscle in his arms and how it’d feel if he used all that upper body strength to heft her up and slam, pin her to the barn wall. “You mad ‘cause I’m makin’ you help me with this shit or somethin’?”

Alright, so that cows her a little. She doesn’t wanna upset him, not seriously. Maybe she could stand to rein it in some.

“I ain’t mad. I’m just… tired, I guess. Haven’t been sleeping so well.” And that’s true — not _the_ truth, but it’s not like she’s lying to him. She pushes a hand through her ponytail, mussing it up more than it already was. “Sorry.”

Daryl’s still looking at her that way he does sometimes, like he’s trying to figure out whether or not he might be able to read her mind. Beth’s not much for lying, but she’s not much for telling him she’s got this insatiable sexual desire for him, either. She wasn’t lying all those times she told Amy it’d give him an aneurysm or something. Even if Daryl does like her the same, he’d pop a couple blood vessels, at least, if she came on to him. He might like straightforwardness, yeah, but Beth’s pretty sure he’s never even had a date before; she’s gotta tread carefully here.

Finally, he relents. Drops that piercing, almost unsettling if it didn’t turn her on so dang much, gaze down to the holes in the knees of her jeans. “We don’t gotta do this today. Ain’t s’posed to rain or nothin’. Roof’ll hold up alright awhile longer.”

He clears his throat, looks to the tops of his boots and shuffles his toes in the dirt while he waits for Beth to make up her mind.

And — jeez. He’s gonna do whatever she wants him to, isn’t he?

Cripes, she wishes she could’ve finished herself with that vibrator before he called, this is too much.

“No, c’mon, you’re already here.” Beth lifts her hand, crosses her heart. “I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”

Another snort, the kind he breathes out when he wants to laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Sure I will.” Or, mostly she will, she amends privately as she tosses the bottle of Banana Boat at him. “Now shut up and help me get this sunscreen on, you want me to wear it so bad.”

Daryl about drops the bottle, though he’d caught it deftly enough a second ago. Beth watches his Adam’s apple work in his throat — which, _interesting_ — watches his mouth twitch before it hardens into a scowl.

“Can’t do it your damn self?”

“Can’t reach my back,” she says with a shrug, and then turns around like he’s already agreed. She twists her head, though, so she can look at him when she adds, “How flexible d’you think I am?”

He blinks at her, and his cheeks go pink like a sunburn’s just caught up to him. Also interesting. Beth thinks this afternoon might actually be salvageable. She’s gonna owe Amy big time.

Her lips quirk into a grin, and she faces front again before Daryl can tell her to quit smirkin’ at him. She does, however, square her shoulders, pull her ponytail out of the way, and tell him, “C’mon, Dixon. Lotion me up.”

Now she’s just being mean, but her gut’s still twisted up in knots and she’s still slick between her legs, so she’s gotta work out the tension _somehow_ , doesn't she?

Behind her, she hears the rough exhale of Daryl’s sigh and the pop of the plastic cap. “Fuckin’ pain in my ass,” he mutters, but there’s only one more heavy second of hesitation before he puts his hands on her.

Beth’s breath hitches, but it’s nothing short of a miracle that she manages to swallow down the moan that rises up soon as his work-worn palms smear sunscreen across her upper back. It might be blasphemous to think so, but all the same she’s pretty sure all those Sunday mornings at church have just paid off.

Her tank top doesn’t ride all that low — actually, she probably could’ve done this herself, but where’s the sexual gratification in that? — so Daryl doesn’t need to venture too far to make sure her skin’s protected. Still, though, he takes his time on her, and that’ll certainly be something Beth thinks about when she’s alone again later.

Even when her skin’s soaked in the stuff and her nose is plugged up with the scent of coconut, Daryl’s still touching her. She’s either gonna pass out or come without even needing his hand to slip down, down, shoved into her waistband to rub her clit, to push his thick fingers inside of her and get her riding his hand the way she thought about riding his face half a damn hour ago.

Pass out, come, maybe die right here and now, who’s to say?

His hands flex on her shoulders before his thumbs dig into her blades, rolling the muscle under his calloused fingertips.

“Fuckin’ tensed up,” Daryl mumbles, like he’s annoyed with her for letting herself get on edge. “Hell’s wrong with you?”

Beth sucks in a breath, hissing between her teeth when his fingers work out a particularly tight knot. _Lord._ “How many times you gonna ask me that?”

“However many it takes for you to calm the fuck down, I guess,” he replies, still mumbling like usual, only now it sounds like he’s veering towards embarrassment.

His fingertips sweep the sides of her neck and she just _knows_ he’s gotta feel the jump of her pulse when he does that, just like she feels his hot, stuttered breathing hit behind her ears, stirring her heat-frazzled hair and making her shiver even as she sweats.

She doesn’t mean to rub her thighs together, it’s just a natural reaction to losing out on her orgasm, only to be surrounded by Daryl in the next instant. A girl can only take so much.

She thinks she hides it well enough, though, since she turns around during, offers him a smile and a “thanks” even as his hands slip off her. _Slowly_ , so slowly, like he doesn’t wanna stop touching her. He lingers, thumbs poised against her collarbones for another second before he seems to realize what he’s doing.

Abruptly then, Daryl pulls back, coughs and shoves his hands in his pockets. His cheeks are pink, ears glaring red, but Beth knows better than to make some crack about how it looks like he could use the sunscreen, too. He doesn’t burn, he tans, and he damn well knows she knows that, because she’s griped about how unfair it is before, more than once when he grumbled about how she’s gonna get sun poisoning if she doesn’t quit being such a stubborn dumbass.

A real sweet talker, Daryl is.

“C’mon.” He jerks his head at the ladder he’d set up before she got outside. “Ain’t gonna fry your ass now, let’s get this done.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Dixon,” Beth drawls, and heads up the ladder first.

“Told you to watch that shit,” he says, but Beth’s too busy wondering if he’s checking out her ass to mind.

The roof doesn’t take long to patch up. Far as Beth’s concerned, Daryl really didn’t need her help at all, just like she didn’t really need _his_ help with the sunblock. She’s not gonna ask about that, but she can still wonder about it and maybe she’ll even torture herself about it, who knows?

She manages to keep her head out of the gutter most of the time, too. Chalk it up to survival instinct, she guesses, ‘cause if she got caught up in thinking about what it’d be like if Daryl laid her ass out on the roof and had his way with her right here out under the sun, she’d slip and tumble off the barn for sure. Then she’d probably die and she didn’t even get to come earlier, so talk about adding insult to injury.

It’s less than an hour before they’re able to pack it in. They stay up on the roof still, sitting cross-legged next to each other as they pass a warm canteen of water back and forth. Beth splashes some on her face, then flicks the residual droplets at Daryl, who retaliates by flicking her ear.

 _“Ow.”_ She swats at him when he smirks. “That hurts, y’know. Ain’t no gunshot wound, I guess.”

“Hell no, it ain’t,” Daryl agrees.

Beth blows a raspberry at him. “You gonna show me them scars, then, tough guy?”

He rolls his eyes, but scoots closer and does as she asks. He’s got a couple on his shoulder, one on his bicep next to his tattoo — his muscles twitch, flex, when he points them out, and Beth’s mouth waters because apparently she’s got no control of her baser instincts anymore.

Some of that must show, too, because Daryl’s looking at her kinda funny. Then he reaches over, swipes at the trickle of sweat running down her neck with his thumb. “Sweatin’ like a sinner in church, girl.”

Oh, if he thinks _that’s_ bad, he should shove his hand between her thighs next.

“It’s hot out,” Beth says uselessly because, no duh, right?

Daryl hums, pulls his hand back and chafes his forefinger and thumb together like he’s trying to rub her sweat into his skin. And if that’s what he wants, well, Beth can think of a few better ways of him to do that, no problem.

Or — _one_ problem, which is that she can’t figure how to say something like that to him. She can feel his eyes on her, like he’s waiting for her to say something, because she’s always talking except now she can’t think of what to say or how to say anything at all. Just in case she’s wrong, in case Amy’s been reading too much into something that isn’t there, and then Beth’ll go and run her mouth and Daryl would have to let her down and slouch out of her life for good, because how could he stand to be around her if he finds out about this stupid crush she’s got?

Oh, God, she’s spiraling.

It’s only been something like a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity since either of them’s spoken, so Beth’s grateful when Daryl clears his throat. She feels like she can breathe again; it’d been looking kinda dicey there for a minute.

“I, uh.” It sounds like Daryl’s throat sticks on the words. Beth looks at him, only for him to glance away from her, to pick at his bitten-down fingernails. “Got you somethin’.”

 _What?_ Beth blinks. “You — huh?”

An irritated huff escapes his lips, but she doesn’t think it’s because of _her_. “I fuckin’ — it’s in the truck. Thought you were pissed when I called earlier. Figured I’d find out if you wanted to kick my ass or somethin’ ‘fore I gave it to you.”

“Oh. Um.” Beth presses her mouth into a firm line, because if she doesn’t she’s gonna start giggling like an idiot. God, this day’s all about the emotional whiplash, ain’t it? No wonder she’s losing it. “Sorry you thought I wanted to kick your ass.”

Daryl shrugs. He’s blushing something fierce again, so Beth figures she’s gonna have to keep talking now, whether she knows what to say or not. Funny how that works.

“You, uh, you didn’t have to —”

“You don’t even know what the damn thing is yet,” he cuts her off, sticks his thumbnail in his mouth and chews. “Might be shit, I’unno.”

“I bet it’s not _shit_ , okay.” Beth wraps her hand around his wrist, tugs so that he’ll quit his anxious chewing and look at her. “Why don’t you show it to me, huh, and I’ll tell you whether or not it _really_ makes me wanna kick your ass.”

Daryl’s mouth twitches some more. Beth thinks she’s starting to like it when it does, ‘cause usually it means he wants to smile.

“Alright.” His fingers jerk against his palm, brush the back of Beth’s hand since she’s still holding on to him. “C’mon, getcha ass up ‘fore I change my mind.”

“Don’t think you’ve ever changed your mind once in your life,” Beth remarks, even as she does as he says. She wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans before heading for the ladder. “You’re too damn stubborn.”

“Look who the hell’s talkin’,” Daryl retorts, though there’s no real heat to it. He almost sounds _amused_ , actually.

Beth tosses him a grin. “Learned it from spendin’ so much time with you.”

“Yeah.” The bright yellow sunshine glints off his teeth, bounces off another one of those almost-smiles Beth's managed to get outta him. “Guess you might be right about that.”

 _Well._ She really does giggle now, a high, bright thing she swallows down before it can get out of hand. The tips of Daryl’s ears glow redder when she does that, and, yeah.

Maybe this day’s gonna turn out alright, after all.


	5. because you walk pretty, you talk pretty

He needs to get a goddamn grip. _Needs to_ , only thing is Beth’s not fucking _letting him_.

It’s not her fault he’s a fuckin’ moron over her — not her fault that he’s never given a shit about somebody quite like this before she came along, like he never really cared about making anyone happy and he sure as hell never wanted to kiss nobody before or hold their fuckin’ hand, but then Beth showed up and suddenly that shit’s all he could think about.

It’s not her _fault_ , but it makes him stupid, makes his palms sweaty. He keeps wiping them on his jeans on the way to his truck, Beth on his heels. She seems to be in a better mood than she was earlier, at least, so that’s something.

He hadn’t needed her help on the roof, truth be told. It was an easy job. But he really didn’t want her sending him stupid pictures on his phone, and he just. Wanted to be around her, he guesses, even if she _was_ givin’ him lip right from the get-go. Still doesn’t know what the hell that was all about, but she’s been lookin’ shifty, _restless_ , so he figures there’s something on her mind.

Even now, better mood or no, she’s flushed like she’s been out in the sun all day rather than just an hour or so. Daryl’s hands twitch when he recalls what her skin had felt like underneath them — all hot and soft, muscles tensed up ‘til he worked them out, and he’d wonder further about what’s got her wound up so tight if wondering that shit wouldn’t make him lose his goddamn mind.

But… Well, fuck it, because Merle’s been up his ass about this, anyway, so it’s not like Daryl’s had a moment’s respite no matter how hard he tries not to think about it.

Daryl might not’ve gotten a good look at the box in Beth’s hand at Lucille’s, but it’s just his fuckin’ luck that Merle knew exactly what it was. Son of a bitch’s been having the time of his life telling Daryl _exactly_ what that toy’s for.

“Think you’re up to the competition, little brother?” Merle hooted, more than once over the past couple days, and always accompanied by the vacuum. He’s never done a household chore in all his miserable life, but apparently the vacuum’s the closest comparison to the fucking _Satisfyer_ Daryl’s got in the house, so go figure that Merle makes it work for his goddamn shitty jokes.

Christ.

Ain’t like Daryl’s been _imagining_ Beth using that thing she bought, or how he could and absolutely the fuck would give her all the head she wanted and she wouldn’t even have to plug him in to charge, ‘cause his battery life in her pussy would be goddamn _limitless_ , alright —

So, okay, that’s a hundred percent what he’s been thinking about since the day he ran into her at the store, but he doesn’t have to make it that fucking obvious.

Or maybe not so obvious, ‘cause the only way Beth’d know what’s going on in his head is if she was some kinda mind reader. And if she were, chances are she’d either never let him live it down, or she’d smack him full in the face like he deserves and never speak to him again. Maybe even tell her sister about it, and then Maggie could shoot him like she clearly wants to every time she catches him looking twice at Beth, and she’s caught him a fair few fuckin’ times.

Daryl meant what he said to Beth earlier, that he’s not goddamn _scared of_ Maggie, but that don’t mean he wants the woman gunnin’ for his ass, neither. If she hasn’t killed a man with just one of those sharp hateful looks yet, well, Daryl’s willing to bet she’s trying to pin him as her first victim.

Either way…

Getting slapped, shot, or laughed right outta the state of Georgia pretty much takes up his gamut of options here, if Beth somehow knew what was on his mind every time he looked at her.

Or — _or_ — and this is some long-dormant, hopeful, straight fucking _stupid_ part of him talking here — maybe she’d like it.

Jesus, but he can’t believe he’s actually crazy about this girl.

Daryl shoots her a glance when they reach the truck, trying to gauge any little thing about her he might be able to pick up on with just a sidelong look. Before he can, though, she’s turned her head to smile at him, and something jumps up in his chest like an eager mutt begging to be pet.

It jumps and then it stutters and he turns away to cough, like he’s trying to toss up whatever the hell’s happening in his chest, but it’s still there when he’s done so he figures he’ll have to live with it.

“You alright?” Beth asks him, all genuine and sweet like she is, and he’s pretty sure he’s having a goddamn heart attack over her, but he’s equally sure he can stick it out.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” Daryl yanks open the passenger side door. He’d left the windows down to air out the truck, but even still the upholstery reeks of the air freshener he bought specifically so he wouldn’t have to quit smoking but still keep Beth happy, because he’s a fucking idiot. “So, uh —”

He doesn’t look at Beth when he thrusts the clutch of yellow flowers forward. Sunflowers and daises and buttercups and he’s pretty sure there's a couple others in there, too, but he just told the florist “yellow” and let the guy do what he wanted with that, because what the fuck does _he_ know?

It takes a second or two, like she’s confused or somethin’, but Beth takes them. He can feel her eyes on him when she asks — and, yeah, _confused_ sure as fuck’s one word for the tone of her voice — “You got me flowers?”

“Yeah. Uh.” _Obviously._ Daryl’s not about to be a dick about it or nothin’, though, so he just kicks at the gravel and sniffs. “Know you’re real into this shit. Kinda fucked you couldn’t enjoy it ‘cause you broke it off with your boyfriend, so I thought I’d —”

Shit. What’d he think? That he’d be her boyfriend now? Fuck. That’s…

God damn it, that’s exactly what he thought.

He lets the words go, lets them trail off ‘cause he don’t know how to finish without saying what's on his mind, and he don’t know how to say any of that, either.

There’s a heavy sort of silence after that, because he hadn’t said any of it out loud but it’s like she knows it, anyway. Like maybe she really _can_ read his mind and now she’s gearing up to let him down, but then —

“Oh.”

That’s it, that’s all she’s got for him, which is fair considering he can’t even finish a damn sentence. Daryl’s just started to glance up again — catches the furrow of her brow, the hard set of her mouth, the way she looks when she’s sussing out something she already damn well knows she’s gonna do, and then —

She takes one step, just one, so she’s all up in his personal space, and she darts up on her toes to catch his mouth with hers before he can even look her full in the face.

_Oh._

Daryl takes a sharp breath through his nose, but that’s all the hesitation he manages before he breathes back out again, the _fuck it_ crashing right into Beth’s mouth.

She kissed him first, didn’t she? Must be what she wants. Far be it from Daryl to try talking her out of it.

His hands come up to hold her face, while his lips pry hers farther apart so he can lick his tongue into her mouth the way he wants to do between her legs, up into her cunt — eager and sloppy and like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, only he wants to kiss her _everywhere_ and he doesn’t know where the hell to start.

Although — Christ, but does she moan sweet for him when he sucks on her tongue, and he thinks this is good a place to start as any.

She nudges up higher on her toes, presses her mouth harder to his and Daryl’s stomach ties up tight. She licks past his lips and, god _damn_ , but if he’d known kissing her was gonna be this kinda sucker punch, it’s probably a good thing he waited so long to do it. Gave him a chance to brace himself for the impact.

Not that he’s prepared for it regardless, turns out, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

When her arms slide around his shoulders, he feels the bump of the flowers in her grip against his back, and then hears the soft _thump_ of them falling into the truck bed behind him. They should probably get those in some water, she wants ‘em to last, but then her fingers are twisting into his hair and he figures _fuck it_ again, he can just buy her some more.

Beth tilts her head when he does, like she knew he wanted to kiss her harder and she’s gonna let him, and — _Jesus_ , that gets a groan outta him, and she swallows it same as she downed that water up on the barn roof. Like she fucking _needs_ it.

And fuck if he don’t need her, too.

His hands slip from her face, down the length of her arms and then to her waist. He grips the curve of it, tugs her closer so her feet kick up dirt from the driveway and makes his skin itch. Not like it matters, ‘cause he sparked up like a livewire soon as she pushed those pretty pink lips up against his, and that’s as much as he can feel right now, besides.

He’s gotta break it off, though, just for a minute because his breath’s coming short and Beth’s panting into his mouth like hers is, too. Their lips stick when he does, but he’s quick to move to her throat when she whimpers like she didn’t want him to stop.

“Guess you liked them flowers, huh?” he mumbles into her ear when he sucks the lobe between his teeth. God damn it, she tastes good, all salty sweet. He wonders if she tastes like this all over, wonders if she wants him to find out.

She nods, a little frantic, restless like she seemed all afternoon. “Uh-huh” — a sharp gasp when he licks behind her ear, like nothing so much as an untrained dog, but she likes it all the same and he can _feel it_ when she scrapes her fingernails over his scalp — “Daryl, I want you to touch me.”

He slips his hands just beneath the hem of her shirt. “Am touchin’ you.”

“No —” She shakes her head now, hands sweeping down his chest to shove between them, so she can unsnap her jeans. He hears the bite of her zipper and, fuck, it makes him hiss between his teeth, makes his hips rock into hers like his half-hard dick’s ready to thrust into her pussy, make her come. “ _Please_ , Jesus, I want you to _so bad_ —”

Fuckin’ Christ. Girl’s fixin’ to make him bust a nut before he can get her off, begging him like she is when he damn well _knows_ he should be the one begging _her_.

“Gotta settle the fuck down, girl,” he warns her, even as he ruts his hard-on against her parted zipper again, feels the heat coming off her cunt. Like he’s one to fucking talk here.

She whines, honest-to-god _whines_ like she’s on the cusp of a tantrum and it makes his cock twitch, his hands flex on her hot, bare skin under her shirt.

“No, I _can’t_ , c’mon,” she pleads, like she’s really gotta _ask_ , but he guesses she’s all riled up now. Makes his lungs burn like he took a hit off a handful of cigarettes, to know he’s the one who done this to her. “Please, I wanna come so bad — _God_ , I tried to earlier, I need you to do it for me, I can’t not come again, pleaseplease _please_ —”

“Girl, Jesus,” he groans into the slope of her shoulder, sucks on a salty patch of skin to ground himself. Feels like she hit him upside the head with a pan or somethin’, all the shit she’s saying to him now. “Fuck’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

She’s planting wet, messy kisses over his neck that make him shiver, hold her tighter ‘round the waist. “You called me before I could finish, I wanna finish _now_.”

 _Oh_ — oh, _shit_.

“Fuck.” He pulls off her neck with a pop, can already see the bruise forming there, though it’s nowhere near as dark as her eyes now, high, hot afternoon sun be damned. “Yeah, I — alright, c’mon —”

She wants him to get her off, then that’s damn well what she’s gonna get.

He pulls the tailgate down, hoists her up onto it before he puts his hands on her thighs so she’ll part them, make room for him between those long freckled legs of hers. The opening of her undone jeans strains wider, gives him a good luck at her olive-green underwear and makes his mouth run dry.

Girl sure does look good in green. Probably’d look good in anything.

“What d’you want, huh?” he asks, voice coming up rough from his throat. He tugs at her belt loops, inching them down further. “What’d you think about when you was touchin’ yourself?”

“Thinkin’ about you,” Beth says, no hesitation to it. Nah, her feet come up around his thighs and she pulls him in closer, jerks her hips up to reach the bulge in his jeans. “Usin’ your mouth on me, tellin’ me you wanna make me come.”

“God damn.” He tugs at her pants some more, wriggles them down enough to get ‘em out of his way. “Do wanna make you come, got that shit right.”

“Uh-huh.” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back a smile as she watches his fingers hook in the band of her underwear. “You’re real sweet to me, ain’t you, Mr. Dixon?”

“Shit.” His stomach muscles clench when her hand grips in his shirt, urging him close as he can get, ‘til he’s nestled tight between her legs. “Yeah, that what you want? Me to be sweet t’you?”

She hums, cutting off on a gasp when he pushes his hand past her waistband to tease her slit. “Know you’re gonna make it good either way.”

Fucking _right_ , he’s gonna.

He rucks up her shirt, gets his free hand on her tits. She’s wearing a sports bra so he’s gotta shove up into it to really touch her, but it’s worth the snap on his wrist when her nipple comes up hard under his palm. Likes the way her breath cuts out when he feels her up, and he wants to hear some more of that when he’s knuckle-deep in her cunt, too.

He nudges his nose against her cheek, encouraging her to tip back so he can cover her mouth with his. Wants to taste another one of those moans when he slips a finger inside of her, and she doesn’t disappoint — ‘course she doesn’t — and he trades her with a low, satisfied rumble from deep within his own chest soon as his finger strokes into that tight, wet heat he’s just about dying to taste.

And, actually…

He curls his finger once, makes her keen then whine again when he pulls out of her. _“Daryl —”_

He ignores her — his cock doesn’t, damn thing pushes painfully against his zipper when she says his name like that, but he ignores _that_ , too, and sucks his finger into his mouth so he can taste her before he gets his head between her legs like he wants.

She’s musky and hot and better than he could’ve dreamed up, but there’s something… tart, there, too. Sweet, kinda on the artificial side. It’s _good_ , yeah, but —

“It’s, um.” Beth’s cheeks go pinker as she reads his expression. “I tried out that lubricant, so I dunno if —”

“Tastes good,” Daryl tells her, and gets his hand back down her pants.

“Yeah, it’s —” Her eyelashes flutter, chest hitches, when he pushes a second finger inside of her and starts to slowly thrust them both. “ _Fuck_ , mmph — it’s — pink lemonade —”

“Was talkin’ about your come,” Daryl huffs. Licks a stripe up her neck. “Like the way your pussy tastes. Wanna get you off like that next.”

“ _O_ —okay — _ohmygod_ —” Her back arches, hips jerk up so his fingers sink deeper, thumb presses hard on her clit. “Jesus, Daryl, _ungh_ —”

She’s breathing sharp, shallow, the way she does when she’s been hauling full milk pails from the barn. Her muscles strain, twitch, ripple when he hits that spot deep inside her that makes her near-scream. He muffles those moans with his mouth crushed to hers, ‘cause nobody else is around, yeah, but it’d be just his luck for one of the farmhands to show up within earshot right in the middle of one of those sounds.

He doesn’t wanna get caught with his hand down her jeans, and he sure as hell don’t wanna share those noises she makes for him, either.

“Gonna come for me yet?” he wants to know, flattening his tongue and dragging it across the seam of her lips, teasing her teeth like his thumb’s teasing her clit. “Bein’ good to you, huh? Wanna come for me? C’mon, sweetheart, lemme get you off. Wanna get my mouth on you like you want.”

“ _Mm_ -huh, yeah,” she pants back, sweet hot breath snapping against his scruff like sticky bubble gum. “Yeah, but I wanna — want you to come, too, can I —”

“Nuh-uh.” Daryl shakes his head, nose bumping the curve of her cheek when her face scrunches into a frown. “Can get off jus’ fine with my tongue up your cunt, alright?”

It ain’t that he don’t _want_ her to touch him — hell no — but he wants to focus his hands, his mouth, on her, and he can’t do that if she gets her pretty hand on his cock, those little calluses on her palms rubbing on his dick while she jerks him off, _fuck_ , he’d go off like a goddamn bottle rocket in a second.

 _“God.”_ She grabs his face, sucks a harsh, sloppy kiss onto his mouth while her hips arch up higher to urge his fingers to go faster inside her. “Jeez, Daryl, gonna make me come just talkin’ to me like that.”

“Yeah?” He curls his fingers again, rubs dizzying circles onto her clit and groans — near fuckin’ _sobs_ — when he feels her pussy drool all over his hand. “You like that? Like me sayin’ dirty shit to you, huh?”

“Yeah — _yeah_ ,” she gasps out, riding his hand while he paws at her with the other, growing more and more frenzied as her orgasm comes crashing, her cunt tightening up, spasming along with the thrust of his fingers. “ _Yeah_ , Daryl, fuck, makin’ me feel so good, baby, God _damn it_ —”

Christ, but never in his whole goddamn life did he think he’d ever want somebody callin’ him _baby_ , but hearing it outta Beth Greene’s mouth while he makes her come nearly does him in, too.

He strokes her through the aftershocks, slips his other hand outta her shirt to pet her hair, carding through her messy ponytail while his wet fingers rub soothingly across her quivering cunt.

She’s panting into his throat, plucking kisses as her breath evens out, like getting her mouth on his skin is enough to get her feet back on the ground. 

“Y’alright?” he mumbles after a moment. He kisses her cheek, throat clicking when he swallows. “Felt good?”

“ _Gosh_ , yes.” The words shake, but her lips break apart in a dreamy kinda grin when she says them. She smooths her palms down his front, hugs them around his hips. “Felt _so_ good, think you’re gonna have to carry me upstairs.”

“Upstairs, huh?” One corner of his mouth quirks, and he traces Beth’s with the pad of his thumb.

“Uh-huh.” She nods, fingers slipping into his belt loops and holding on tight. “If you, um. Y’know. If you wanna?”

 _Hell yeah_ , he wants to. He drops another kiss to her lips, plucks at that smile with little smacking sounds that make his jeans even more uncomfortably tight than they already are.

But, fuck it. He’ll get that taken care of soon enough; he wants to kiss her some more first.

Doesn’t get more than about half a minute, though, before the rumble of an engine kicks up down the road.

 _“Shoot.”_ The heel of Beth’s boot taps his thigh when she tenses up at the sound. “Think that’s Maggie.”

“Christ.” Daryl doesn’t let her go, figures he’s got another half minute before he’ll have to. He squeezes her thighs, then does up her button and zip before he’s tempted to bury his face in her pussy, fuck whoever’s on their way to the farmhouse. “Better get my fuckin’ hands off you ‘fore she shoots me in the ass.”

Beth giggles, drops her legs so they’re dangling over the tailgate instead of wrapped around him. _Damn it._ “You got a bullet scar there yet?”

“Wouldn’t you like to fuckin’ know.”

“Well, it’s why I _asked_.”

Daryl huffs, leans in for one more kiss, this one pressed to her temple so he can smell the dry sweat on her hairline and the aftereffects of whatever citrusy shampoo she uses. Ain’t no pink lemonade, but he still shuts his eyes and breathes in deep.

“Smartass,” he mutters, and she giggles again.

And, truth is, he thinks he likes the sound of her laugh even better than the way she says his name when she comes. It’s a close call, alright, sure, but…

Well. Yeah. He knows he’s in this thing deep, and — god damn, but when Beth turns that sunshine smile up for him, somehow that don’t feel as fuckin’ stupid as it did this morning.


	6. ain’t you got some photographs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: who doesn’t love a filler chapter amirite ladies???

**AMY** : (≖_≖ )

 **BETH** : What?

 **AMY** : is there……… something……… going on with you?

 **BETH** : Why……… do you……… ask?

 **AMY** : okay smartass

 **BETH** : Okay, DARYL.

 **AMY** : oh so this is about DARYL, is it???  
i should have known

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : whore

 **BETH** : LISTEN

 **AMY** : i’m all ears, baby

 **BETH** : Why do you even think there’s something going on with me?

 **AMY** : um because when we went for breakfast after church you plugged in my “feels good” spotify playlist

 **BETH** : So?

 **AMY** : tell me, exactly how far were you gonna let this friendship go before you let me in on the fact that you do a truly wild and disturbingly spot-on singalong to ginuwine’s masterclass hit “pony”?

 **BETH** : Oh, please.

 **AMY** : we’ve known each other since the EIGHTH GRADE, BETH. and you’ve known about my affinity for “space jam” the entire time, so like, where’s the EQUALITY here

 **BETH** : (◔_◔)

 **AMY** : WORK THAT BODY WORK THAT BODY MAKE SURE YOU DON’T HURT NOBODY

 **BETH** : I really don’t need the reminder of our sophomore year talent show, okay?

 **AMY** : which i WON

 **BETH** : So sayeth the trophy you bought an honest-to-God display case for, yeah, I KNOW.

 **AMY** : you’d do well to keep that in mind  
bc what this decorated bastion of unmitigated unmatched raw TALENT wants to know is what inspired you to get down and dirty like my passenger seat’s your personal stripper pole

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : and right after church, too

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : in the PARKING LOT  
of the HOUSE OF GOD

 **BETH** : Oh, cut it out.

 **AMY** : y’know, if this was a piece of great american literature, that song would indicate that you did, in fact, “pony up” on mr. dixon

 **BETH** : ??? What does that even MEAN

 **AMY** : means u got on that dick

 **BETH** : What kinda books are you studying in Intro to Lit???

 **AMY** : hemingway or fitzgerald or smthn idk man all these old white guys are the same  
everything’s an allusion to their own personal impotency

 **BETH** : That’s a medical issue. You really shouldn’t make fun of people for that.

 **AMY** : i should’ve been clearer, bc their problem isn’t medical impotency so much as it is blatant misogyny, like —  
“oh this woman i’m needlessly obsessed with isn’t bending to my every whim and now i can’t get it up”  
bam that’s the whole book  
and we call it classic american literature like, this is what’s wrong with this country

 **BETH** : So the question is, is college really worth it?

 **AMY** : hell no, i can get this shit for free on reddit  
i just can’t get the credits i need to turn a profit when i psychoanalyze these nerds in their mightily necessary therapy sessions, so here we are

 **AMY** : BUT ANYWAY

 **AMY** : so mr. dixon finally took u on a trip to Bone Town, huh

 **BETH** : I will give you a thousand dollars to never say “Bone Town” to me ever again.

 **AMY** : would literally rather be indebted to a collections agent, thanks

 **BETH** : Sigh. FINE. Just know that I only didn’t tell you this earlier because I was…   
I dunno.

 **AMY** : basking in the glory of sexual fantasy. i get it, it’s fine

 **BETH** : Not exactly how I’d put it, but anyway.

 **AMY** : mmm-hmmmmmmmmmmm

 **BETH** : ANYWAY.  
So. Daryl came over the other day, y’know, to fix that leak in the barn roof? The one I was tellin you about that Otis was working on, but then he busted his ankle?

 **AMY** : yes this is all information i need, thank u

 **BETH** : Now who’s the smartass??

 **AMY** : now who’s DEFLECTING  
no offense babe but i don’t give a rat’s ass abt your barn roof idek anything about barns  
get to the slutty stuff

 **BETH** : Who said anything about ““slutty stuff”” ??

 **AMY** : bc the only reason you’d go on that diatribe about your barn is that you’re procrastinating tellin me smthn and i already know it’s about daryl, so  
ERGO  
slutty stuff

 **BETH** : First of all, it wasn’t a DIATRIBE, but I’m happy to see your word-of-the-day calender’s being put to good use.

 **AMY** : so does mr. dixon like, get off on all your smartass remarks? or does he spank you for em?

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : guess it’s a win-win either way, huh?

 **BETH** : If I say yes, will you shut up and lemme tell you about how I ended up in the back of Daryl’s truck with his hand down my pants?

 **AMY** : !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
oh my holy shit WHAT god yes

 **BETH** : OKAY. Good.  
So, as I was sayin…

 **AMY** : ::panting::

 **BETH** : _typing…_

* * *

**DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : hey

 **BETH** : Hiya. :)

 **DARYL** : so, uh  
how’re you doin?

 **BETH** : Daryl, are you hittin on me?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : don’t be a dick

 **BETH** : ;*

 **DARYL** : yeah whatever

 **DARYL** : you get those flowers in some water or what?

 **BETH** : I did, yeah.  
Maggie wants to know what the hell you bought ‘em for me for.

 **DARYL** : don’t let her talk to rick  
asshole keeps makin jokes about me tryna “get fresh” w you or smthn

 **BETH** : Oh, is that not what you’re doin?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : shut up

 **BETH** : :D

 **DARYL** : knock it the hell off

 **BETH** : Or what?

 **DARYL** : gonna kick your ass, that’s what

 **BETH** : Yeah, right. You couldn’t even pick me up.

 **DARYL** : girl what the fuck? yeah i could. u weigh bout three pounds

 **BETH** : I do NOT.  
I’m sturdy.

 **DARYL** : heavier than u look, huh?  
could still bench-press ur skinny ass

 **BETH** : Bet you’d like to try.

 **DARYL** : bet you would, too

 **BETH** : Now, Mr. Dixon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re /definitely/ flirting with me.

 **DARYL** : good thing u don’t know any better, i guess

 **BETH** : That was real smooth, Daryl.

 **DARYL** : what’d i tell you about bein an asshole?

 **BETH** : I’m not!! I mean it, that was a real line. You’re real good at flirting with me.

 **DARYL** : ain’t flirtin with u

 **BETH** : Oh, no? I thought you liked me?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : :)

 **DARYL** : yeah well you’re real good at pissin me off

 **BETH** : See, that’s flirting.

 **DARYL** : you’re fuckin nuts

 **BETH** : You text me just to pick on me?

 **DARYL** : nah. u just make that shit easy.  
wanted to know if you were uh  
if you were busy or smthn

 **BETH** : Nuh-uh. Just got home from church a little bit ago. You know my dad likes to take Sundays off, so I just locked myself up in my room. Might take a nap, or… somethin.

 **DARYL** : u can tell me to fuck off, if i’m buggin u

 **BETH** : You’re not! Don’t think you could be annoying if you tried; it’d make you wanna kick your own ass.

 **DARYL** : think you been spendin too much time around me. pickin up my nasty mouth like that

 **BETH** : Hmmm well, that nasty mouth’s what was gettin me thinking about that somethin else I could do besides nap.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : oh  
uh  
so you uh, you want me to keep talkin to u?

 **BETH** : If that’s okay?

 **DARYL** : why wouldn’t it be?

 **BETH** : I dunno. ‘Cause it’s kinda like, y’know.  
Sexting, I guess? I mean, I’m not gonna send you nudes or nothin outta nowhere, but even still? This just. Doesn’t really seem like somethin you’d wanna do.

 **DARYL** : do, uh  
do you want to?

 **BETH** : Honestly, I’d um. Kinda rather see you.

 **DARYL** : shit  
me too  
but uh, i’m workin. picked up some overtime this weekend. won’t be home ‘til late.

 **BETH** : What’d you text me for if you’re supposed to be working?? I don’t want you gettin fired!

 **DARYL** : ain’t gonna get fired for textin u on my lunch break, girl

 **BETH** : Well, way to bury the lead.

 **DARYL** : been thinkin about you  
that better?

 **BETH** : It’s straight to the point, that’s for sure. :)

 **DARYL** : fuck you keep smilin at me for?

 **BETH** : You’re sweet.

 **DARYL** : ain’t gonna be sayin that shit next time i get my hands on you

 **BETH** : That so? What’re you gonna do, make me come again?

 **DARYL** : gonna fuck you til you can’t walk straight, that’s what m gonna do

 **BETH** : Kinda what I want you to do, y’know, so that ain’t much of a threat.

 **DARYL** : that right?  
anything else u want me to do to u?

 **BETH** : Well, think you might be able to give this toy of mine a run for its money, if you wanted to try.

 **DARYL** : fuck me girl u know i do  
you been usin that thing on yourself?

 **BETH** : You know I have. Just did the other day.

 **DARYL** : do it any more?

 **BETH** : Um. Yeah.  
After you left.

 **DARYL** : didn’t give it to you good enough, huh?  
had to get urself off again?

 **BETH** : Wanted to do it again thinkin about you.

 **DARYL** : coulda asked me for one more time. could do that shit to you all goddamn day

 **BETH** : We got /interrupted/, remember? Otherwise I’d’ve taken you up to my room and let you do whatever you felt like, //all goddamn day//.

 **DARYL** : yeah?

 **BETH** : Uh-huh.  
Why? You got somethin specific in mind for me, Mr. Dixon? :)

 **DARYL** : might.  
you like what i did to u before?

 **BETH** : Think I made that obvious.

 **DARYL** : yeah, well

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : still

 **BETH** : You like that, huh? When I tell you how good you are to me?

 **DARYL** : guess i do  
wanna make sure you like it

 **BETH** : I’ll tell you if I don’t. Promise.

 **DARYL** : yeah i know  
want you to tell me when you do, too, tho

 **BETH** : Thought all my talking got on your nerves?

 **DARYL** : just when you’re mouthin off

 **BETH** : Wanna shut me up, huh?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : kinda want u to be loud for me

 **BETH** : Oh, I can do that, easy.

 **DARYL** : bet you can

 **BETH** : Bet you could make me.

 **DARYL** : girl, jesus. don’t do this shit to me rn

 **BETH** : Hey, you’re the one who started it. I’m just followin orders.

 **DARYL** : since when d’you like gettin bossed around?

 **BETH** : I dunno. How long you been bossin me around for?

 **DARYL** : couple years, probably

 **BETH** : Then I guess it’s been a couple years since I started to like it. Comin from you, anyway.

 **DARYL** : yeah?  
ain’t gonna let anyone else talk to you like that huh?

 **BETH** : Nope. :) I’m all yours.

 **DARYL** : damn right

 **DARYL** : so you gonna let me do what i want with you?

 **BETH** : Depends. What d’you wanna do?

 **DARYL** : already told u, wanna get my mouth on your pussy. get you off like that. liked the way you tasted on my hand, wanna get my tongue up your cunt for real

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Jesus, Daryl.

 **DARYL** : y’alright?

 **BETH** : Yeah, I just  
Jeez.  
I’ve thought about you talkin to me like this, just never really thought I’d actually get it.

 **DARYL** ; give u whatever you want. just gotta ask.

 **BETH** : Same goes for you, y’know.

 **DARYL** : that mean you’re gonna let me get them legs over my shoulders? eat you out?

 **BETH** : You gonna yell at me bout my language if I say “hell yes”?

 **DARYL** : nah. let u have this one

 **BETH** : Then, /hell yes/.

 **DARYL** : good

 **DARYL** : listen uh, i gotta head back to the garage in a couple minutes here  
don’t wanna cut u off or nothin

 **BETH** : That’s alright. Figured you didn’t have all that much time today once you said you were workin, anyhow.

 **DARYL** : yeah  
but um  
you busy tmrw night?

 **BETH** : Nope, I’m free. :)

 **DARYL** : alright. uh. good.  
pick u up around six or smthn? kinda wanna make good on all that shit i said to u

 **BETH** : Yeah, that’s perfect. Maggie’s goin out with Glenn tomorrow night, too, so you don’t even gotta worry about seein her.

 **DARYL** : think ur fuckin funny, don’t u?

 **BETH** : Yep.

 **BETH** : Hey, before you go, um  
Did you like that pink lemonade stuff?

 **DARYL** : could put whatever the hell u want in ur pussy and i’ll eat it outta you

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : You can’t just SAY that to me when you gotta go back to work!

 **DARYL** : sorry

 **BETH** : I don’t think you are.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : alright fine so i ain’t

 **BETH** : Maybe I should make another trip to Lucille’s, huh, see what else I can get you might like.

 **DARYL** : don’t gotta. like you just fine without all that

 **BETH** : And you think you ain’t sweet.

 **DARYL** : yeah well  
it’s true

 **DARYL** : how much shit you buy from that place, anyway?

 **BETH** : Just one other thing.  
Think you might like this one best.

 **DARYL** : yeah?

 **BETH** : [ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE]

 **DARYL** : jesus fuckin christ

 **DARYL** : talkin about what /i/ can’t be sendin u when i gotta go back to work, fuck, girl  
thought you weren’t sendin me no naked pictures?

 **BETH** : I’m not NAKED. I’m just in that little green thing Amy made me try on at the store, and turns out I sorta liked it so here we are.

 **DARYL** : christ  
tell amy i said thanks

 **BETH** : She’ll be thrilled.

 **DARYL** : kinda feels like i owe her money or smthn

 **BETH** : Now you’re just bein ridiculous.

 **DARYL** : fuck no i ain’t  
jesus  
gonna give me a goddamn stroke

 **BETH** : :) Maybe you should take the rest of the day off sick.

 **DARYL** : about to quit my damn job

 **BETH** : Don’t QUIT. Maybe just clock in some of those vacation hours you never use.

 **DARYL** : don’t think that’s not what i’m doin soon’s i get back there  
u got next weekend free?

 **BETH** : What about tomorrow?

 **DARYL** : still comin to get your ass tmrw, don’t u fckin worry abt that shit  
but you gonna send me pictures like that, i’m gonna need a couple days alone with u too

 **BETH** : I’ll see what I can do. ;)  
In the meantime, I can always wear the little green thing for you tomorrow night.

 **DARYL** : fuckin better

 **BETH** : Yes, sir, Mr. Dixon.

 **DARYL** : don’t go startin that shit up again

 **BETH** : Okay, okay. I know you gotta head back, I’ll have some mercy on you.

 **DARYL** : yeah real fckin charitable

 **BETH** : [ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE]

 **DARYL** : god damn fucking hell woman are u tryna kill me?

 **BETH** : Have a good rest of your day! xx

 **DARYL** : christ

* * *

Daryl does not, predictably, have a good rest of the day. Little bit too wound-up after all that, but he figures Beth’s probably not faring much better.

Or maybe she is. Maybe she said fuck the nap and went for that _somethin’ else_ she mentioned earlier. Maybe she’s thinkin’ about him again while she uses it. Maybe she’s still in that little green get-up, and maybe —

_Shit._

Maybe — _definitely_ — he’ll drop a fuckin’ wrench on his face, he keeps that shit up.

He rubs at the sore spot underneath his eye, and hopes it doesn’t go all black-and-blue before he picks Beth up tomorrow night. ‘Less she wants to kiss it better for him, in which case…

Yeah. Pretty sure he could live with that, too.


	7. you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight

“What’d you do to your face?” is the first thing Beth says to him, soon as she climbs into his passenger seat, and Daryl’s not sure if things are off to a great start here.

“Dropped a wrench on it,” he tells her, ‘cause he can’t think up anything better that makes him sound any less stupid than the truth.

Beth presses her lips together, like she wants to smile but she’s worried about him, too — he recognizes that look in her eye, even though he should be focusing as he backs out of the dusty driveway — asks, “Are you alright?”

Daryl snorts. “Ain’t no gunshot wound, right?”

Now she smiles; giggles some, too. “I dunno. You tell me.”

“Hard to say.” He shrugs, takes a turn down one of the backroads. “Let you know if anybody ever shoots me in the face, I guess.”

“And who’d do somethin’ like that?”

“Maggie.”

That makes her laugh louder. Girl near about _cackles_ , although Daryl hesitates to call it that ‘cause it’s a kinda ugly word, and that sorta thing don’t much suit Beth. She’s all sunshine and pretty things and —

Right. That reminds him.

“Uh.” He clears his throat, nudges the empty water bottle in the cup holder, next to the half-gone air freshener. “Got you somethin’.”

“Oh” — she must not’ve noticed, too distracted by his black eye, but her mouth’s still twitched up in a smile — “you’re real sweet on flowers now, huh?”

He’s sweet on _her_ , that’s for sure. Ain’t gonna say that shit out loud, though, so he just grumbles and fishes the sunflower out of the bottle, tosses it into her lap. “That one ain’t real. Some kinda fabric or somethin’, I dunno. Figured it’d last longer.”

“Oh,” she says again, softer this time. Like the way she said it the other day, before she hauled off and kissed him hard enough to knock him straight on his ass.

She doesn’t do that now — he’s _driving_ , for fuck’s sake — but she does touch him, hooks her hand in the crook of his elbow and leans in. Presses her soft, dry lips to the scruff on his cheek. Makes him lean into it, too, eyes fluttering for a second before he fixes them back on the road, but, shoot, maybe he _is_ sweet on flowers, after all.

She doesn’t say anything about it, no thanks or nothin’, which is good. Daryl doesn’t want her thanking him for shit he _should_ be doing for her. He knows she will, that’s just how she is, but he doesn’t want her thinkin’ it’s a hassle or nothin’, for him to do things ‘cause he thinks she’ll like it. She can kiss him for it all she wants — like hell’s he about to stop her from doing _that_ — but he doesn’t wanna hear _thank you_ , like being good to her’s some kinda chore.

“So,” she says once she’s planted her ass back in her seat, adjusts the seatbelt so it’s not digging into her shoulder, “where’re we goin’?”

“Uh —” Daryl chances a proper look at her and, fuck him, but does she look pretty. Hair scraped back in a wavy ponytail, a little braid twisted into it like she does most of the time, her shoulders and collarbone all but bare in that floaty yellow sundress, just a couple shades lighter than the flower he gave her, twirling like a cigarette between her fingers.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“What?”

“You, uh — you look real — dammit,” he swears again, because that’s the best he can do when he looks at her all done up like she is. “Just, shoulda thought about takin’ you someplace nicer.”

“Well I don’t even know where you’re takin’ me,” she points out, “so why don’t you tell me and then I’ll be the judge of that?”

“Just. Uh. There’s this campsite out by the lake I go to sometimes. Pretty quiet, ‘cause the lots ain’t too close to each other or nothin’, an’ it’s s’posed to be clear all night, so. Thought we could” — shit, this sounds stupid now he’s gotta say it out loud — “y’know.” He clears his throat. “Skies are pretty clear out there most’a the time, anyhow.”

“Gonna take me stargazing, huh?” she says, and he can hear that smartass grin in the question.

He can’t tell if she’s givin’ him shit for real or not, though, so he huffs, feels his ears heat up. “We could do somethin’ else —”

“Nope. I like your idea.”

“You’re all dressed up.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Alright, _now_ she’s givin’ him shit. He shoots her a look. “Ain’t nobody else gonna see you lookin’ like that, we go to the lake.”

Beth shoots him that look right back, only she’s still being a smartass about it. “I don’t want nobody else seein’ me like this. I didn’t dress up ‘cause I was going out. I dressed up ‘cause I’m going out with _you_.”

Oh. Huh.

He looks at her a little longer, gives her a once-over, eyes catching on her sweetheart neckline and then the hem fluttering around her knees.

“You wear that for me, huh?”

She grins. “It’s not all I wore for you, either.”

“Jesus.” His hands flex on the steering wheel, remembering those pictures she sent of her in that little green thing. He’s got the damn thing memorized by now, down to the last stitch, but he’d like to know what those snaps down the side feel like when he’s unhooking them.

“Alright,” he says, voice hoarse and eyes back on the road. “Guess my idea’s not half-bad, then.”

Beth giggles, and he reaches over to squeeze her knee, just once, before pulling back, ‘cause he’s gonna have to keep his hands to his damn self if he wants to get them there in one piece.

Or if he wants to get them there at all, ‘cause the side of the road’s looking as good a place as any to park and get his head shoved under her skirt. But he’ll be pissed at himself later if he chucks his (arguably, sort of) romantic plan just to cop a feel ten minutes quicker than he would’ve otherwise, so. Both hands on the wheel it is.

It’s not too long of a drive out. Seems even shorter when Beth switches on the radio and sings along, even if Daryl does hate that bubblegum country pop. Thinks he could even deal with a whole hymnal, if Beth was the one singing ‘em, so he doesn’t even pretend to grimace or smack her hand away from the dial when she turns it up.

He drives through the trail, stopping a ways in where he usually does, thankful that no one else’s set up camp here for the night. There are lots of good places to park around here, it’s just that Daryl’s not keen on wasting too much time now that he’s got Beth all to himself for —

He frowns, just slightly. “You got a curfew or somethin’?”

It’s still plenty light out, so he doesn’t miss it when Beth rolls her eyes. “Nah. Think I’m old enough to leave the house without an ankle monitor.”

Christ, this fuckin’ girl.

“Asked if you had a curfew, not if you were on house arrest, Jesus.”

She shrugs, toys with the flower he gave her. “Livin’ with Maggie, it’s hard to tell which sometimes.”

“Thought I wasn’t s’posed to be scared of her?”

“Thought you _weren’t_.”

“I ain’t.”

“She’s not _scary_ ,” Beth tells him, for somethin’ like the umpteenth time. “She just worries about me sometimes. Gotten a lot better about it, though,” she adds after a moment, “but she still does.”

Yeah. Daryl remembers what it was like around the Greene farm a few years back, after Beth’s momma and brother died in a car wreck outside of town. Remembers how Beth was the next one in the hospital, and that she couldn’t go anywhere after that without someone, usually Maggie, on her tail.

They’ve never talked about it much — Bsrh doesn’t want to, that much she’s said before, that she just wants to move past it — and he’s not gonna bring it up now. But he smooths a hand over the bracelets on her left wrist when she starts fiddling with ‘em. Leans over and kisses her cheek, same as she did on the drive over.

“Better quit givin’ me shit about it, then.”

That seems to break the spot of tension that’d been blooming, because Beth’s smiling again. Rolls her eyes again, too, when she reiterates, “She’s not gonna shoot you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she don’t know I’m takin’ you out all night.”

“All night, huh?” She pecks him on the lips, and he’s gotta swallow a whine when she does it. “That’s mighty ambitious of you, Mr. Dixon.”

“Getcha ass outta my truck,” he grumbles. Gives her a tap on the ass to get her moving, makes her cheeks flare pink and he makes a mental note to do that again later. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She does as she’s told, and Daryl follows her out, leads her back to the tailgate. He lets it down and tries not to think about the last time they did this, or else he’s gonna get hard before he’s ready to do something about it. Not that he’s not ready right goddamn _now_ , but he didn’t bring Beth out here to — what is it, _hit it and quit it_ or some shit like Merle’s always sayin’.

“Hold up a sec,” he says, and hops into the bed of the truck before Beth can clamber up herself.

The bed’s clean — he made sure of that before he picked her up — but it ain’t much for _comfortable_. Got enough sleeping bags and bedrolls to make up for that, though, so he sets about spreading those out before he heads back to the tailgate, holds out a hand to help Beth up.

She takes it, ‘course not without rolling her damn eyes at him again first. “Coulda climbed in myself, y’know.”

“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes at her, too, soon’s she’s got her footing in the truck. “Don’t want you go tearin’ your pretty dress, though.”

“You wanna do that yourself, huh?”

Something hot and harsh kicks up in his gut. “Girl, shut the hell up.”

Least she does what he says, even if she’s got that little smirk while she’s at it. He’ll take what he can get, and his muscles relax some when she sits, settles back against one of the bedrolls propped up by the cab. Folds her skirt around her knees, tucking it in for modesty’s sake, like Daryl ain’t an hour away from seeing what she’s got on underneath it.

Not like he minds, though; probably’d have a heart attack or somethin’ if she flashed him. And if she decided she didn’t want any of that at all, well, then, that's alright, too. He’s used to being hard-up for her as it is, but — and he’s gonna sound like a pussy if he says so out loud, _but_ — really he just wants to spend some time alone with her, whatever they get up to.

He takes a seat next to her, close enough for his thigh to brush hers when he stretches out, but not so close that he’s got her boxed in or nothin’. But then she scoots closer, like she wouldn’t mind it if he did.

“This okay?” she asks him, because, yeah, outta the two of ‘em, Daryl’d be the one to shy away from close contact. He doesn’t usually like it, but with Beth…

Well.

“Yeah, s’alright.” He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and skates his thumb over the back of her hand. She flips it over, catches his fingers between hers, and he gives her a little squeeze to let her know that’s okay, too.

Can’t damn well believe he’s holding this girl’s hand just ‘cause he wants to, but it’s _okay_. Hell of a lot more than that, even, but there’s this funny tickle in the back of his throat when he thinks about it, so he leaves it at _okay_ and holds on a little tighter.

Beth leans her head on his shoulder, eyes cast upwards as dusky orange starts to creep over the sky. He can feel her content little sigh when she breathes it out across his collarbone, and it makes his own chest relax.

Okay. Okay, so he’s done alright so far, then.

“You come here a lot?” she wants to know, breaking past the content stillness that usually hovers around out here. But that’s alright, ‘cause truth is Daryl likes to hear her talk. Probably won’t ever tell her that, but he’ll listen and hope she gets the picture.

“Couple times a month.” He circles his thumb sorta absentmindedly against her palm. “Dog likes the lake.”

Beth hums, and he can feel the curve of her smile against his shoulder. Girl loves that dumb fuckin’ mutt of his, and that son of a bitch ain’t a sucker for no one like he is for Beth. Eats outta the palm of her pretty goddamn hand.

Daryl guesses that’s something they got in common.

She hitches her chin up to look at him. “And you?”

“Ain’t much of a swimmer. Like to take the crossbow out, though,” he tells her. “There’s some good game ‘round here. Some hunting restrictions, too, but ain’t too bad a hike to get out where most campers ain’t lookin’ to go.”

“Still gonna teach me to use that thing sometime?”

He shrugs, gets her face closer to his while he’s at it. Swallows. “If you want.”

That makes her giggle, kinda shaky. Daryl don’t know why, ‘til she says, “Amy thinks that’s a euphemism, y’know. She kept tellin’ me you meant it in, like…” Bwth swallows, too, just as nervous as he’d done it a minute ago. “She said it was like, um, in a — uh. Sexy way.”

Daryl’s pretty sure he’s never said anything in a “sexy way” — _Jesus_ — in his life. His ears heat up and he ducks his head, same as always when he’s embarrassed or whatever shit he’s feeling now, only now that just gets him closer to Beth. He can taste her breath (toothpaste, maybe a little lemon underneath that?), and feel her heartbeat kick up and stutter.

“I, uh —” he starts to say, but ‘course she saves him from making this shit worse than it already is. Fuck. Feels like he’s run into her at a porn store all over again.

“It’s okay, Daryl.” She runs her fingers soothingly between his. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. Amy just likes to give me a hard time ‘bout you.”

Yeah, and ain’t _that_ a whole other problem he’s gotta deal with. ‘Cause if Amy knows, if she’s got even the faintest idea about what he thinks when he looks at Beth, who’s to say nobody else does?

“How’d she know, anyway?”

“Well, _she_ said it was obvious. I kinda just thought she was trying to make me feel better most’a the time, though. Like…” She sits up straighter, like that’ll help her explain what’s on her mind. “I liked you, and I didn’t think it was ever gonna be anything, so I thought she was just sayin’ all that because she’s my friend. And it’s _Amy_ , I mean, she thinks I should get whatever I want. So I figured she was just bein’ her usual self. A good friend, y’know?”

Daryl _doesn’t_ know, not from experience. Not like he talks about this sort of thing overmuch; closest he got was asking Rick what kinda flowers Beth liked, and that’d been hard enough.

But he’s glad Beth’s got a friend like that; girl deserves to get what she wants, and he’s willing to do whatever that shit takes. Doesn’t know what to goddamn do with himself when she’s sad. One time he saw her cry and, swear to god, he busted out a bottle and they did a shot together ‘cause he didn’t know what the fuck else to do, and it felt like he oughta do _something_.

So. This is sorta like that, only this time he’s had his hand down her pants and he knows what she likes to do with her tongue when she’s kissing him.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Her cheeks color when he turns to look at her, waiting. “It, um. It might be stupid.”

“Go ‘head.”

“You, uh.” She laughs a little, the sort she can’t help when she’s nervous. Took him awhile to figure that one out, but he got there. “You like me, right?”

Huh? Daryl blinks at her. “Thought you might’ve figured that shit out by now.”

“I know.” She shifts, like she’s uncomfortable. Embarrassed, maybe, and she hides her face under his jaw, so her breath puffs across his throat. “I told you it was stupid, but I just —”

“Ain’t stupid,” he cuts her off, ‘cause he doesn’t want her thinking that shit. So he swallows down his own pride, or whatever shit he keeps up so he won’t have to be vulnerable — because he _can_ be, with Beth — and he spells it out for her. “Yeah, I, uh. I like you.”

He feels it when her mouth spreads in a smile, when her cheek bunches up against his shoulder. “I like you, too.”

And the thing is, he already knew that. He did. And even if he didn’t, she just said it a minute ago, didn’t she? He couldn’t tell himself he’s just making it all up, ‘cause she won’t let him believe that.

But he gets it, too, because hearing her actually say that shit to him? Jesus. He ain’t ever comin’ back from this. Doesn’t ever want to.

“Nobody ever tell you that before?” he asks.

“Zach said lots of nice stuff at first. Kinda stopped after awhile, though.” She drifts off a second, like she’s thinking about it, then shakes her head. “I told you, we weren’t real good together — I mean, after the start, anyway.”

She pauses again, considering. Considering what, Daryl doesn’t know, but she clears it up for him soon enough.

“I don’t wanna say a lot of bad stuff about anybody, y’know? I don’t wanna be mean.” And, yeah, that tracks. “I guess I _was_ mad about some stuff, but he did some things wrong and so did I, and I guess in the end I just didn’t care enough to fix any of it.”

She looks at him then, frown line creased between her eyebrows. “Does that make sense?”

“Guess so.” Daryl smooths his thumb up that line, tries to soothe it away. It makes her smile, so he guesses it worked. “Wouldn’t know much about it.”

“You wanna know somethin’ else?”

“Bet you’re gonna tell me either way.”

“Yeah, you’d bet right.” Beth sticks her tongue out at him, but she’s talking again before he can tell her to quit bein’ an asshole. “I’ve had a crush on you for ages, Daryl. And it’s like I said, I didn’t think it’d ever be anything more than that, and that was fine, but” — she squeezes his hand some more — “but if you wanna, I wanna make this work for real.”

Alright, so she got him there, ‘cause that’s somethin’ else he _did_ wanna know.

“Yeah,” he says, too quick, ‘cause he doesn’t know what else _to_ say, he just wanted to grab at what she offered him. “I, uh — I ain’t never done nothin’ like this before, though. Dunno if I’d be any good at it.”

“You’re good for _me_ ,” Beth tells him, like she’s been wanting to say so forever, and she’d only been waiting for him to be ready to hear it. “And I wanna be good for you, too.”

He swallows. Got about a thousand things he wants to say back to her, but he meant what he said — he’s never been any good at any of it.

But this ain’t like runnin’ into her at some porn store, where her friend’s talking about all sorts of things that made Daryl’s ears go hot and Beth roll her eyes. There’s nobody else around at all, to wonder what the hell they’re doin’ together or what the likes of him could give to her.

Truth is, it probably ain’t much. He does alright for himself, _by_ himself, and he knows Beth ain’t the type to care about shit most folks would expect her to.

The least he can do, he thinks, is give her at least some of what she wants to hear. What he wants to tell her, only usually he can’t figure out the words for it. But it’s not so hard right now; he just hopes he can make some damn sense of it for her.

“Think you might be the best thing ever happened t’me,” he tells her. Blurts it, really, but if he's gonna say this shit, he needs to get it out before he’s got time to think about it too much. Doesn’t wanna second-guess it. “I — fuckin’ Christ. Ain’t never known somebody like you. Make me wanna be better than I am, but — but you don’t make me feel like I gotta be. I just… wanna. ‘Cause of you.”

He swallows again. Can’t seem to stop trying to get those nerves down his throat. Can’t look at her, either, ‘cause this shit’s hard enough, but he keeps on holding her hand, so that’s something.

“I wanna know whatever it is you got that makes you so damn good,” Daryl continues. Mumbles, but he knows she can hear him. “I wanna — want you to show me that.”

“Like the song.”

His forehead pinches into a frown. “What?”

“You know —” Beth's got that smartass smirk goin’, and he doesn’t gotta wonder why when she parts her lips and sings the words. _“I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me —”_

“Girl, I swear to god.” He huffs some more, tucks his face in her hair and plants a kiss there. “Pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her laugh tickles his neck, and she tugs at his collar to get him to look at her. The sun’s starting to go, but he thinks it could be the middle of the night and he’d still be able to see that smile.

“Daryl…” Her mouth goes soft as she skims her fingers across his jawline, up his cheekbone. “You didn’t hafta say all that.”

He tilts his forehead against hers. Shrugs. “Wanted you to know.”

She nudges her nose at his cheek, presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. That was real sweet,” she whispers, and, damn it, Daryl didn’t want her thanking him for this shit, but it shoots a shiver down his spine when she does.

Wonders if she can tell, because now she’s taking the lead again, same as she did the other day.

“C’mere, baby,” Beth murmurs, twisting up his gut somethin’ fierce when she noses at his cheek again, when she slicks that pretty sweet smile over his mouth and kisses him like she’s tired of waiting for it.

And, shoot, Daryl guesses he is, too.

This kiss ain’t frantic like the last one, their first one. It’s slow, deep from the get-go, ‘cause they got time for it now. No one’s around to interrupt, no back-of-the-mind fear that he’s gonna look up into the business end of a shotgun. It’s all hot breath and nothing much else — the rustle of trees, the lap of lake water nearby, but it’s so far removed from the soft pucker of Beth’s lips, her fingers threading through his hair, that Daryl can’t hardly process it.

She’d disentangled their fingers so she could scrape hers over his scalp. The scratch of her nails makes him sigh rough into her mouth, makes him thrust his tongue more purposefully along with hers, and his own hands busy themselves all over her, too.

He rubs his hand across her skirt, bunching it up a little more with every pass. Beth squirms a little more, too, every time he does it, like she wants to crawl outta her skin, or maybe she wants to crawl on top of him.

He could be good with that, only he’s got plans that sorta necessitate that _he_ gets on top of _her_.

So that’s what he does, ‘cause he’s pretty sure Beth’ll take the lead there, too, if he doesn’t do something about the way her hips are straining towards his. So he rolls over her, bearing her back deeper into the layers of nylon and flannel ‘til she’s flat on her back and he’s stretched out on top of her.

“Thought you were gonna show me some stars, huh?” Beth teases, breathless, when he releases her mouth. “Hard to see anything with you on top’a me.”

Daryl huffs into the slope of her shoulder. “You started it.”

Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that, he figures, ‘cause she only hums and runs her hands down his back, pulling him tighter to her chest while he busies himself behind her ear. Her heartbeat picks up and her breath catches, harsh and shallow, when he sucks and laps his tongue up her skin.

“Daryl, I wanna —” Her back arches, hips rolling up into his and making him grunt. “Want you to —”

“Want me to what?” he presses, as he slicks his tongue all sloppy up the line of her throat. “G’on, gotta tell me. Ain’t a goddamn mind reader, girl.”

“ _Now_ who’s the smartass, huh?” Beth snarks, but before Daryl can tell her to shut up she’s got her hands around his, yanking them up to cover her breasts, and she catches his mouth with hers to keep him quiet.

Like _he’s_ the one always mouthin’ off, but — well, she wants him to feel her up, he can’t complain none.

Can’t do anything but kiss her back and palm her tits, ‘cause that’s what she wants and like hell is he about to tell her _no_ for anything. Least of all when she slants her hips up against his so he can rut his stiff cock between her legs.

She meets him for every one of those thrusts, grinding her cunt up his inseam like she’s tryna get them both off like that. It ain’t a half-bad idea, for all Daryl cares; so long as it makes her come, it’s gonna finish him off, too. But, god damn, does he wanna get his mouth on that pussy too bad to let anything else go too far.

“Hold up,” he rasps out, unsticking their mouths. Gives her tits one last grope before he moves his hands down to still her hips. “Gimme a damn second here, girl —”

Beth’s hands are curled in his shirtfront, but she lets up her grip some to skate her fingertips down the line of buttons.

“Can I, um.” She licks her swollen lips, and Daryl follows the sweep of her tongue. “Can you take this off? I wanna — I wanna touch you.”

 _Christ._ A shudder rocks through him and his muscles pull tight. His instinct is to tell her no, to pull back, ‘cause that’s what he’s used to doing. But Beth’s seen him shirtless before, when he busted up his shoulder on the farm and her daddy had to patch him up. She knows all about the scars on his back, just like he knows about the one on her wrist, and she knows neither of ‘em wanna talk about it. It is what it is.

So he only hesitates a second before nodding, just once, and unhooking his buttons. Beth pushes the collar down and he shrugs the thing the rest of the way off, flinging it off his wrist so it lands somewhere behind him.

“Fuck.” He buries his face back into her hair when she passes her hands over his bare skin. She’s all soft fingertips and calloused palms, and _warm_ , she’s so fuckin’ warm, feels so fuckin’ good to let her touch him…

“C’mon,” Daryl mutters, pushing up the skirt of her dress, struck by the sudden, irrepressible urge to feel her naked skin the way she’s feeling his. He wants all of her, ain’t never wanted nothing like he wants Beth, Jesus Christ — “C’mon, girl, want you outta this thing.”

She’s giggling again, breathless again, and he can’t believe he’s the one that done that to her, but he is. Knowing that feels just about as good as it does when she touches him.

It takes some doing, but they get Beth wriggled out of her dress without Daryl having to get off her — he could’ve, if it came down to it, but he doesn’t wanna roll off her for nothing if he can help it — and she toes her shoes off, too. Daryl does lean back then, rears up on his knees to settle comfortably between Beth’s spread legs, palms her thighs, just so he can look at her, and —

“Christ.” He swears, voice gone hoarse and throat clicking when he tries to swallow down those nerves again.

Beth grins, knocks her knee against his hip. “Told you I got dressed up for you.”

Yeah. Yeah, she sure the hell did.

Daryl don’t know shit about clothes, much less fuckin’ lingerie, so all he can really say about it is that it’s green. Shades brighter than the underwear she’d had on when he’d got his hand down her pants the other day. Brighter, too, than it had looked in the pictures she’d texted him. Strapless, so tight he can’t believe she can breathe in the thing. Got black lace trim and snaps down the side he’s been itching to undo, so bad it’s all that’s been on his mind for the past twenty-four hours. Ain’t no damn wonder he gave himself a black eye, thinkin’ about her like this.

Her undewear’s black lace to match that trim, rides low on her hips. He shoves a hand into them, cups her upper thigh and feels the muscle spasm.

He jerks his chin. “Take ‘em off.”

“You don’t wanna do it for me?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Wanna watch you do it.”

She blinks, like she’s surprised. Shit, Daryl can’t say he ain’t surprised at his own damn self, sayin’ this shit to her like he is. All he knows is that he’s gotta — he’s got this girl laid out in the bed of his truck, dress rucked up around her pretty hips, sunset splashing her skin like an oil spill caught by the sun, orange and gold and bright violet streaked across her thighs, her face. The colors spark her eyes dark blue, jewel-bright irises swallowing it all up ‘til there’s nothing left but a strip of cornflower, but — god damn it if that ain’t Daryl’s favorite color.

Those eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, when she hooks her thumbs in the band and creeps the underwear down her legs.

Daryl tracks her progress, tongue caught between his teeth before he gives in and licks his lips. She’s only got to around her knees before he takes over, curls his hand in the front of her panties and drags them the rest of the way off. Her feet kick up to help him along, and he smooths a hand down her calf before circling her ankle, crooking her legs farther apart so he can fit between them.

She’s so fuckin’ small, he’s gotta shoulder her thighs apart, but — _fuck_. He remembers that thing she said a couple days ago when she was teasin’ him — _How flexible d’you think I am?_ — and she bends for him, all supple muscle and her hands in his hair, twisting tighter when he noses at her mound.

He inhales deep, tastes her musk on his tongue before he even gets it on her. But it ain’t just that humid kinda musk, it’s sweet and sugary, just like it was when he licked it off his fingers last time.

And _last time_ , it was because —

“You get off ‘fore I came and got you?”

“Nah.” Beth scrapes her fingernails over his scalp, damn near gets his eyes to crossing. “Just wanted to get ready, s’all.”

“Huh.” Daryl flattens his tongue and licks up the crease of her thigh. Has to hold her hip down when she arches up. “You ain’t pissed off this time.”

“Well, _this_ time I knew you were gonna take care’a me.” Now she gives his hair a tug. “So you gonna be good to me or not?”

“Watch the fuckin’ sass,” he growls. The words hum against her skin, and he feels her thighs tighten up, feels her toes curl into his hips.

“Or what?” Girl’s sure got some fuckin’ nerve, teasin’ him when he’s hard-up enough for her to cone soon’s he gets his tongue in her cunt, but tease him she does. “You gonna make me get off by myself?”

Daryl huffs, laps up the crease of her leg again. Tastes a hint of that lemonade stuff. “Sure you do alright with that thing you got.”

“But I want _you_ to do it. Felt so good last time…” She hums, tilts her hips up for him and this time he lets her. “C’mon, please?”

Christ. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. If it was already just about impossible to tell her no, Daryl doesn’t stand a goddamn chance against _please_.

“What d’you think about when you use that thing, anyhow?” he wants to know first. _Has_ to know first, even as he slicks his tongue up her slit, tastes her wet and ready for his dick but he’s gotta — fucking. _Got to._ — eat her pussy before he does anything else with it.

“Think about you doin’ this to me instead,” Beth tells him, just like he’d wanted her to. Her voice is this side of wrecked already, moreso when she tries to catch her breath to tell him, too, “But. Um. You don’t have to.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, glances up to look at her so she knows he means it. “Told you, I wanna.”

So, fuck it, he does.

Slicks his tongue up her slit again, only this time he stays the hell put. Laps up her arousal and that sweet artificial flavor, sucks on her clit same as he did behind her ear. Doesn’t have any experience to know what he’s doing, so he tries to make up for his lack of fuckin’ _finesse_ or whatever with sheer enthusiasm.

The enthusiasm’s genuine, at least. He just hopes it’s good enough.

Beth doesn’t seem to have any complaints so far, not with the way she’s swearing under her breath and pushing her hands through his hair. Not like she’s teasing him this time, neither; nah, now it’s all scrambling and needy as he tongues her clit and sinks two fingers inside of her.

He breaks off for a second, to glance up at her again and ask, “Good?”

“Uh-huh.” She snaps her mouth shut around a moan when he curls his fingers, thumbs a little rough at her clit ‘cause he wants to hear her louder. “Oh, _God_ —”

Yeah. Yeah, he wants to hear more of that shit.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, so he can taste what she did to herself before he picked her up. It’s kinda sweet and subtle, gives a little kick to the musk that’s all her — intensifies it, almost, he thinks, but then again what the hell does he know? Just that she tastes _good_ , and Daryl’s pretty sure he’d wanna tongue-fuck her every chance he gets no matter what. That’s how he felt before he even had a shot at it; no reason for him to change his mind now.

She’s gone kinda quiet now, though, enough that Daryl’s gotta wonder if he’s doing something wrong. He gives her clit another suck, feels her muscles ripple, before he raises his head to give her another once-over.

Hard to tell with the sun goin’, but she looks all hot and bothered, skin pink, and now he sees that she’d taken one hand out of his hair to clamp it over her mouth, muffling the sounds tryna come outta it.

“Nuh-uh.” He circles her wrist, yanks her hand back down to his head. “Fuck outta here with that, girl, I wanna hear you.”

“Daryl, jeez, I —”

But he doesn’t let her finish, just holds her hips down and covers her cunt with his mouth, lashing at her with hard, erratic flicks of his tongue that make her back bow and her moan rip from her throat, loud and clear and ringin’ in his ears even as her thighs clamp down around them.

He eats her like he’d been thinkin’ about for who knows how long — with a furious, single-minded obsession that’s one part longing and another part pissed off. Not ‘cause of anything she’s done, but because it drove him fuckin’ nuts, thinkin’ about her with someone else; he’d driven himself goddamn half-crazy when she was with Zach. And Daryl knew the kid treated her alright, but in his most honest moments Daryl knew, too, that he _didn’t care_ , ‘cause he wanted to be the one bein’ good to her.

He wanted to be the one she called just ‘cause she wanted to talk to him. Wanted to be the guy who picked up halfway through the first ring ‘cause he wanted to talk to her, too. Wanted to be the guy who picked her up and took her out; doesn’t matter where, just so they could be alone together. He wanted to hold her hand and just fuckin’ look at her, with nobody else around sometimes, but he wanted to catch her eye in a crowd, too. Much of a crowd as he ever lets himself be part of, anyway, even if it meant Rick givin’ him shit or Maggie shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

It doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Feels like a pansy-ass motherfucker to even think this shit, but that’s fine, ‘cause now he’s got his tongue up her cunt and Beth’s writhing underneath him while he groans into her pussy and laps up her come like he ain’t ever tasted anything so good.

And he _hasn’t_ , so even if he’s just slobbering all over her pussy, at least he can tell her the truth about it.

“So fuckin’ good, Beth,” he pants, muffled, into her cunt as he keeps at it. His blunt fingernails dig into her waist, catching in that pretty green silk. “C’mon, you wanna come for me? Wanna make you.”

“Daryl, _jeez_ ,” she says again, panting just the same as he is. “Keep goin’, okay, keep goin’ and I swear I’m gonna —”

“What you want me to do?” He breathes hot and heavy across her pussy lips, thumbs at her clit some more. “Huh? How you want me to get you off? Christ, girl” — he groans, and ruts his hard cock into the nylon sleeping bag beneath them, fuck, he’s gotta get inside her — “you gotta tell me.”

Beth’s fingers stutter in his hair, come down to scratch through his stubble. She hesitates a second, like she’s not sure she should say what’s on her mind, but he fuckin’ wants her to, and she must get it, because —

“Want you to — want you to get your mouth on my clit again. I’m so close, Daryl, you’re makin’ me feel so good —”

Fuck. _Fuck._

He does as she says (thinks he always will), latches his lips around her clit and sucks at it, tongues at it, puffs hot, wanting exhalations over it. Doesn’t know which part of all that gets her legs to shaking, but he keeps ‘em all up. Seems like the right way to go about it, ‘specially when her hips roll up to fuck his face, to meet the thrusts of his tongue, just as rhythmless, just as wanting.

He runs his hand from her waist to his own head, so he can tangle their fingers together, so she’s holding his hand instead of pulling his hair. He _likes_ when she pulls his hair, likes that he can make her do that to him, it’s just…

Jesus. All he ever fuckin’ wants to do is hold this girl’s hand.

That’s the first place he feels it, when she comes. It’s in the squeeze of her fingers around his, that death grip kinda thing that makes him want to hold tighter to her, too. So he does, and then he tastes her come in his mouth — not like she’s nearly there, but she’s _there_ , unwinding and spilling across his tongue.

He parts his lips and just, fucking, slurps it up as she sobs and sighs and says his name, over and over again, and his zipper digs into his cock and it’s nothing short of a goddamn miracle that he doesn’t come in his pants when she digs her nails into his scalp again, _fuck_.

But he holds off, throbbing but nothing more as he licks her through it. He runs soothing hands up and down her trembling thighs, before running them far enough up so he can cup her tits, feel the shudder of her heartbeat as she comes down from the high he hit her with.

Jesus. _He_ did that to her. If he wasn’t already hard from the taste of her pussy, her come down his throat, he thinks that might’ve done the trick.

When the aftershocks become too much, he guesses, Beth pushes him back, but only so she can urge him to climb up the length of her body. So she can fasten her mouth to his and cling, so she can mutter into it as she struggles to undo his belt, “I want you so bad, c’mon, _please_ …”

“Yeah.” He recalls the flare of pink in her cheeks when he’d tapped her ass earlier, so he does it again now. She jerks up, hips jutting hard into his and making him hiss at the friction. “Yeah, fuck, hold up a sec —”

He digs into his back pocket for a condom — snatched a couple from Merle, ‘cause fuck him — as Beth gets his belt unfastened, his fly undone. Goddamn full-body shudders when she shoves her hand past his parted zip to grope at his dick. Doesn’t stop her, though, ‘cause every inch of that’s all for her and he wants her to know it. If that means she’s gotta feel him up, well, far be it from his stupid ass to stop her.

He just. Can’t fuckin’ wait no more. Can’t think of anything else that’s not her.

She shoves his jeans down far enough down for him to roll the condom on, digs her grip into his lower back when he lines himself up with her pussy. Her hands feel so damn good all over him. He ain’t never been so relieved to have his shirt off before, now that it’s Beth’s hands takin’ care’a him.

The truck bed creaks when Daryl lowers himself over her, when he props up on one elbow while his other hand guides his cock to her opening. She spreads her legs a little wider, bent at the knee while her feet brace themselves, toes curling into the sleeping bag that’s all disheveled now, but neither of ‘em wanna bother to stop and fix it.

Nah, his eyes are all for her, right now in particular ‘cause he’s gotta ask, “This alright?”

“Yeah.” Beth’s face is cast in nighttime shadow, but he can tell she’s smiling at him. She cradles his face in one hand, smooths a thumb down his cheekbone, across his lips. “Yeah, Daryl, c’mon, you know I want to.”

Yeah, he guesses he did. Still… “Yeah. Just wanted to hear you say so.”

Seems like her hands are everywhere now, lighting his skin on fire in a way he never thought could feel good, not before Beth. Not before she’d touch his arm or grasp his hand, all innocence, like she was never gonna hurt him, she just wanted to be _near_ him, and that got him half in love with her before he even knew what the fuck was goin’ on.

He ain’t sorry for it, either. Maybe that’s how he knows he ain’t just fuckin’ with himself — ‘cause he wants this, and she wants him, too.

Even goes so far as to tell him so, when she nudges her nose against his chin, then higher up so she can whisper it into his mouth. “‘M always gonna want you, y’know,” she says, and slips her tongue into his mouth just as he sinks his cock into her cunt.

And, fuck, just _fuck him_ , ‘cause she’s goddamn soaked from his spit and her come and that lube she’d slathered all up inside herself. She’s _wet_ , and her pussy sucks at his dick the way he’d done to her clit. He’s gotta screw his eyes shut tight, bury his face in her neck and lick up her sweat, to keep from losing it soon’s he gets his dick in her.

Her palms are hot on his shoulders, scorching when she presses into his back, presses him closer. Can’t be easy for her to breathe but, then, Daryl can’t say he’s having an easy time of it, either. He’s puffing into her hair like he’s been scouting for game in the woods all damn day, working his hips to meet the frantic pace of hers.

The truck bed creaks some more. That should make him slow down, maybe, only it makes him fuck her harder instead.

“Always gonna want me, huh?” he echoes back, trying to focus on anything other than the slick hot glide of her. She liked it, the other day, when he said all that nasty shit to her, so why not keep it up now? “How long you been wantin’ this? C’mon, Beth. Gotta tell me how long you been wantin’ my dick in you.”

 _“Mmph —”_ She whines, cinches her pretty polished nails into his shoulder blades, rides the roll of his hips, makes him curse. “Told you, been wantin’ you for ages. Never looked at me twice, did you?”

“Fuck that,” Daryl growls. He sucks a salty patch of skin into his mouth, bruises up the slope of her neck where anybody could see it. Fuck it, let ‘em. “Been lookin’ at you longer than I goddamn should’ve.” He grinds into her, hitting that spot that made her mewl when he got his fingers on it, and makes her shout this time around. “Been fuckin’ beggin’ you for this pussy, girl, don’t goddamn act like you didn’t fuckin’ notice.”

“I _didn’t_ ,” Beth insists, best she can when she’s otherwise busy meeting his thrusts and feeling up his chest, _Christ_ , her hands feel good. “Shoulda said somethin’. Coulda been givin’ me what I wanted this whole time.”

“Always get what you want, don’t ya?” He palms her knee, pushes it back so he can fuck into her deeper. “Fuckin’ brat. If you wanted me so goddamn bad, you shoulda been the one told me sooner.”

Something like a giggle breaks past her lips, but she at least tries for repentance when she says, “I’m tellin’ you _now_.”

“Shoulda told me _sooner_ ,” he says again, ‘cause he really can’t stress that shit enough. Can’t stop kissing her for nothin’, either, so he lips at her jawline. “Don’t wanna see you with nobody else.”

Fuck, but it still hurts to even think it, and it’s worse ‘cause he don’t want it to hurt. Feels like a fucking idiot for it. But when he says it, Beth holds onto him tighter. She urges his mouth to hers and kisses him so hard he near about forgets everything else — his hips jerk and he fucks into her hard and fast, doesn’t even know if it feels good for her, but he’s so goddamn lost in her mouth he doesn’t even think to ask.

But she kisses him, pulls every last breath he’s got outta his lungs and it’s better than any nicotine rush he’s ever had, and she tells him, “Don’t wanna _be_ with anybody else. Not now I know you want me, too.”

Jesus goddamn Christ, but was there ever a time she thought he didn’t? He’s gonna have to make up for that shit, that’s for sure.

He can tell her. He _can_ , ‘cause it’s just them and she wants to hear it, he knows she does. And he wants to tell her, too.

That’s the thing about them, ain’t it? He wants to tell her every last truth he’s ever felt about her, ‘cause she’s already gone and done it for him. Ain’t so stupid or scary when she’s done it first.

So he kisses her again, tries to do it just as good as she did. Eases up his thrusts and pumps into her sweet and slow, tangles one hand with hers and the other in her mussed-up ponytail.

“Ain’t ever wanted nobody else,” he murmurs. Voice is goddamn wrecked, but maybe that’s good, so she _knows_. “Jus’ you, alright?”

She nods. Doesn’t say anything, but he gets that, ‘cause she tends to leave him speechless. He kisses her cheeks and he thinks he can taste the smeared smudges of tears there, and then he takes her mouth to eat up any other sobs she might have left.

He leaves her hair be to slip that hand between them, to play with her clit as he keeps up that almost-tempo inside her. He wants to make her come again, wants to feel it on his dick the way he did on his fingers the other day, like he did in his mouth a little while ago. Wants her to know that she’s his, and that he’s all hers. This is good a way to show her as any, right?

“C’mon,” he all but grunts, tracking sloppy kisses up her neck and across her face. “C’mon, Beth, you wanna come for me ‘gain? Lemme be good to you, alright, wanna get you off some more…”

“ _Mm_ -huh.” She bites down on his shoulder, so everything she says after is slurred, but right up against his ear so there ain’t no mistaking it. “Been makin’ me feel _so good, Daryl_ , Jesus, _please_ —”

And, well. He already knew he couldn’t turn down a _please_ from this girl, didn’t he?

This time, when she comes, he feels her whole body tighten up underneath his. Feels her hands leaving prints on his body, bruising up his knuckles when she clamps tight between their interlaced fingers. Her teeth dig sharp into his skin, making him full-on shake all over again when she moans into his muscle. Her cunt clenches up and then, _then_ —

She just. She fuckin’ _melts_ , and Daryl’s only got a couple more thrusts left in him before he’s melting right on top of her, too. He sinks into her, hands all over and his face in her hair. She’s all sweat and somethin’ sweet as usual, only this time he can smell himself on her, too.

He squeezes her hand, clings to it, and her pulse beats wild beneath the press of his thumb. 

Everything else that ain’t Beth — her hair, her breath in his ear, free hand rubbing down his scarred spine — takes a couple minutes to come back. The gentle bob of lake water close by, the rustle of leaves, the smell of dirt and that fuckin’ ache in Daryl’s knees, but even still he doesn’t roll off Beth ‘til his cock softens and he needs to get the condom off. Kisses her cheek, then her wrist, before he lets her go to clean up.

Only takes a minute, and, that done, he rolls right back to her. Doesn’t get on top of her this time, leaves her room to breathe, but he slides an arm across her stomach. Dips a hand beneath that tight green thing and soothes away the quiver in her muscles, bends to plant lazy kisses along her collarbone. Feels her breath hitch some more when he touches her like that.

“Jesus,” she says after another moment. Skates her fingertips up his arm, all the way to his jaw so she can hook her hand around it and haul him in for a kiss. “ _Jesus_ , Daryl. You weren’t kiddin’.”

He hums into her mouth, chafes his thumb across her navel. “‘Bout what?”

Beth’s mouth curves into a smile up against his. “You really went and showed me some stars, huh?”

“Girl —” he huffs, hot breath breaking apart against her hotter skin as he tries not to laugh. “Shut the hell up.”

She doesn’t pay him no mind, just laughs right into his mouth when he says so. But Daryl likes the taste of that — might like it best, the way he makes her happy — so who the hell is he to tell her off when she gives it to him?


	8. it’s all mine

**BETH** : Hey, I haven’t been able to find my, uh  
Y’know, those underwear I had on? When we went to the lake?  
Did I leave ‘em in your truck?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : no

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : i gotta go

 **BETH** : DARYL!

 **DARYL** : gotta get my hours in at the shop woman  
you want me to take the weekend off or not

 **BETH** : Daryl, c’mon, I JUST bought those!

 **DARYL** : well damn girl i dunno what to tell u  
haven’t seen em

 **BETH** : (≖_≖ ) (≖_≖ )

 **DARYL** : christ. how many times i gotta tell u not to send me them things

 **BETH** : I dunno. How many times do /I/ gotta tell /you/ not to steal my underwear??

 **DARYL** : ain’t even told me once

 **BETH** : So you DO have them!

 **DARYL** : didn’t say that

 **BETH** : WHINES

 **DARYL** : are u fuckin kiddin me

 **BETH** : Well, if you won’t give ‘em back when I ask you real nice, guess I’ll just hafta annoy you into it.

 **DARYL** : only thing ur gonna annoy me into doin is smackin ur ass

 **BETH** : Mr. Dixon, are you propositioning me?

 **DARYL** : yeah  
guess so

 **BETH** : What if I don’t let your hands anywhere near me unless I get those panties back first?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : jesus  
what u even need em for? just gonna take the damn things off you anyway

 **BETH** : You can’t just keep every pair you take off me! I’ll run outta underwear!

 **DARYL** : yeah, so?

 **BETH** : Unbelievable.

 **DARYL** : who says i’m gonna keep every pair, anyway?

 **BETH** : I don’t know! Never took you for the type of guy to take ONE pair, but here we are, so what do I know?

 **DARYL** : ain’t my fault you forget em

 **BETH** : I think I could make the argument that it /is/ your fault, actually.  
And you coulda told me when you found them!

 **DARYL** : nah

 **BETH** : This really how you’re gonna treat me? I know you ain’t used to this sorta thing, but this ain’t exactly good boyfriend behavior, y’know.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : boyfriend, huh?

 **BETH** : Yeah. I decided.

 **DARYL** : weren’t gonna ask me first?

 **BETH** : Nope. :)

 **DARYL** : brat

 **BETH** : What, you don’t wanna be?

 **DARYL** : nah. i do.  
just thought i was gonna have to ask u or smthn

 **BETH** : That’s alright. I can be in charge.

 **DARYL** : bossy

 **BETH** : If that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black…

 **DARYL** : thought u liked me bossy

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : NOT the point.

 **DARYL** : yeah okay  
whatever u say

 **BETH** : …I don’t think I like your tone, Mr. Dixon.

 **DARYL** : yeah now u know how i feel whenever i gotta deal with ur smartass mouth

 **BETH** : Thought /you/ liked my smartass mouth? ;)

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : quit pissin me off

 **BETH** : :D Have a good day at work!

 **DARYL** : yeah, u have a good day bein an asshole

 **BETH** : :* :* :*

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : yeah  
back at u

 **BETH** : :)

* * *

**_BETH GREENE is In A Relationship_ **

**Amy Harrison** : WHOMST

 **Beth Greene** : BLOCKED

 **Maggie Greene** : I’m gonna kill him

 **Amy Harrison** : :o  
FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

 **Maggie Greene** : Shut the hell up, Amy

 **Beth Greene** : Be nice!!

 **Amy Harrison** : lmao fuck u too maggie xx  
 **@Glenn Rhee** come get ur woman

 **Glenn Rhee** : I’m busy

 **Beth Greene** : **@Glenn** No, you’re not! You’re eating my cereal.

 **Glenn Rhee** : Why are you @-ing me we’re in the same room

 **Beth Greene** : Well I could ask you the same thing now, hmm?

 **Glenn Rhee** : Huh. Touché.  
Anyway tell Daryl I hid the shotguns so he’s got like, a day to get outta town before I accidentally tell Maggie where I put them

 **Maggie Greene** : How many damn times do I gotta tell you not to touch my guns

 **Glenn Rhee** : I… don’t…… know………

 **Beth Greene** : **@Maggie** you can’t just shoot everybody who pisses you off. You’d take out the whole town.

 **Maggie Greene** : **@Beth** mind your business

 **Beth Greene** : ?? This IS my business!

 **Amy Harrison** : give it up, beth, he’s a dead man

 **Beth Greene** : Y’all ain’t funny.

 **Maggie Greene** : Ain’t jokin  
 **@Glenn** where the hell are my guns

 **Glenn Rhee** : My phone’s dying, gotta go

 **Maggie Greene** : Swear to God, when I get back from the store y’all are in for it

 **Beth Greene** : (◔_◔)

* * *

**BETH** : [ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE]

 **DARYL** : fuck’s this?

 **BETH** : My Facebook status.  
Think you might’ve been right about Maggie.

 **DARYL** : yeah i goddamn told u she was gonna shoot me

 **BETH** : You gonna let me see that scar, too? ;)

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : hold up

 **DARYL** : you get off on that shit or smthn?

 **BETH** : Maybe I do.  
That gonna be a problem?

 **DARYL** : hell no it ain’t

 **DARYL** : if your damn sister don’t kill me first, anyway

 **BETH** : Don’t you worry about that, baby. I’ll protect you.

 **DARYL** : quit mouthin off

 **BETH** : Gimme back my underwear.

 **DARYL** : no

 **BETH** : Well then I guess we’re at an impasse. Or somethin.

 **DARYL** : guess so

 **BETH** : You might deserve a bullet to the ass, you keep this up.

 **DARYL** : watch the fckin attitude

 **BETH** : Yeah, yeah, better behave myself or else you’re gonna smack my ass, I get it.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mr. Dixon.

 **DARYL** : girl i swear to god

 **BETH** : :)

 **DARYL** : never gonna get outta here, u don’t quit fuckin with me

 **BETH** : Sorry, sorry! Just wanted to give you a heads-up about Maggie and then I went and got distracted.

 **DARYL** : s’alright  
ain’t like i don’t spend the whole damn day thinkin about u anyway

 **BETH** : Jeez, Daryl, sure know how to make a girl blush, don’t you?

 **DARYL** : dunno  
never tried before

 **BETH** : I need to go lay down, you’re givin me the vapors.

 **DARYL** : jesus  
you’re fuckin loony

 **BETH** : It’s part of my charm.

 **DARYL** : yeah i bet

 **BETH** : Okay, I’ll let you go back to work. If Maggie’s truck’s in the driveway when you come over later, might be safer for you to just climb through my bedroom window.

 **DARYL** : yeah, no shit

 **BETH** : :) I’ll leave it unlocked for you. See you later!

 **DARYL** : see you

* * *

**DARYL** : i need a restraining order

 **RICK** : For who??

 **DARYL** : maggie

 **RICK** : I think you’re overreacting

 **DARYL** : then i’ll send you the damn doctor’s bill

 **RICK** : You got health insurance, you’re gonna be fine

 **DARYL** : real helpful, asshole

 **RICK** : Guess that means Beth liked her flowers, huh?

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **RICK** : Man you better not be tellin me to fuck off again

 **DARYL** : wasn’t  
yeah, she liked em

 **RICK** : Maggie probably won’t be too hard on you, then

 **DARYL** : yeah we’ll see

 **RICK** : Hey, I get it. I’ve seen Maggie at the shooting range she knows what she’s doing

 **DARYL** : you really think this is fckin funny?

 **RICK** : Kinda, yeah

 **RICK** : I’m sure Beth will protect you

 **DARYL** : she said the same thing  
coupla smartasses

 **RICK** : Christ, that’s funny  
Tell Beth I’m gonna up her babysitting rate to $15/hr so long as she keeps giving you shit

 **DARYL** : don’t think you need to pay her to do that  
been doin it just fine for free

 **RICK** : Seems to have worked out for her, ya big softie

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **RICK** : Well I guess if you were ever gonna go gettin calf-eyed over some girl, it’d be one who told you to go to hell every once in awhile

 **DARYL** : ain’t goddamn //calf-eyed//

 **RICK** : Carl’s word choice, not mine

 **DARYL** : quit tellin the kid this shit about me, damn

 **RICK** : Hey, it wasn’t me, man. Carl bet me ten bucks like a month ago that you were sweet on Beth.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **RICK** : Like hell was I gonna bet against that, though, I just gave him the ten bucks

 **DARYL** : pain in my ass, all of u

 **RICK** : What can I say, man, we were rooting for you

 **DARYL** : fuckin  
thanks i guess

 **RICK** : Don’t worry so much about Maggie. She’s smart, she’ll see that what you and Beth got goin is a good thing and then she’ll ease up, alright?

 **DARYL** : yeah well  
don’t say i never asked for the restraining order

 **RICK** : Wouldn’t dream of it

* * *

**GLENN** : Hey man jsyk I’ll have Maggie out of the house by 7pm, God willing

 **DARYL** : thanks, rhee

 **GLENN** : No problem, dude

 **GLENN** : Delete your messages tho I don’t want to leave a trail

 **DARYL** : fuckin obviously, yeah

* * *

**AMY** : pls tell me you’re still gonna use the satisfyer  
we did not go through all this for the poor thing to just lay forgotten in a drawer like all those bad mixed CDs we burned on limewire in junior high

 **BETH** : You really got a way with words, y’know that?

 **AMY** : yeah i shoulda been a politician

 **AMY** : but FOR REAL

 **BETH** : It was $50, ‘course I’m still gonna use it.

 **AMY** : daryl doesn’t mind sharing huh??  
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : i mean, he SHOULDN’T mind  
men who are /that/ intimidated by sex toys obvs have some insecurities they need to work out with a therapist before they try dating someone just to tell them they’re not allowed to have a vibrator, and i KNOW you’ve got better taste than to go for a guy like that

 **BETH** : Ugh, that’s gross!  
No, Daryl wouldn’t tell me I couldn’t have one. Actually I think he… sorta likes that I have one?

 **AMY** : o.O

 **BETH** : We haven’t DISCUSSED it or anything but, um, he kinda indicated that…  
Y’know.

 **AMY** : no i absolutely do NOT know  
TELL ME

 **BETH** : WHY

 **AMY** : i have to live vicariously through u okay do u really think jimmy talks dirty to me

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : sometimes he tells me he likes my ass but you KNOW he confesses that at sunday church and somehow that just, like, spoils the magic

 **BETH** : Y’all got a weird relationship.

 **AMY** : whatever you’re the one who wants us to get married

 **BETH** : Yeah, well, the weird kinda works for you guys.

 **AMY** : okay super i’ll be sure to start droppin hints about my ring size  
now tell me all about how ur boyfriend wants to watch you masturbate

 **BETH** : That is NOT what I said!

 **AMY** : yeah i know but like… the more i think about it the more that sounds about right

 **BETH** : Jeez, please stop thinking about it.

 **AMY** : mr. dixon’s probably thinkin a WHOLE LOT abt it!!!

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **AMY** : god y’all are so hot i’m loving this

 **BETH** : Thanks? I guess??

 **AMY** : you are like, so welcome

 **BETH** : (-＿- )

 **AMY** : and to think, if we’d just gone straight to IHOP like u wanted then this might never have happened

 **BETH** : I… guess so?

 **AMY** : i mean honestly  
can u BELIEVE that you found true love in the middle of a sex shop

 **BETH** : Well technically I met Daryl when he started workin at the farm…

 **AMY** : but is that the story you’re gonna tell ur grandchildren??

 **BETH** : Between that and running into Daryl while I was shopping for lube?  
Yeah, think I’ll stick with the farmhand version of things.

 **AMY** : snore

 **BETH** : I’m not gonna talk to my grandkids about my sex life.  
I can’t believe I actually gotta say this.

 **AMY** : no no, i get it. ur strictly a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets

 **BETH** : Sigh.

 **AMY** : listen i’ll let u off the hook this time, but after your little weekend rendezvous with your rugged older man, i’ll foot ur ridiculous pancake bill if you tell me aaaaaaall about it

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Will we go STRAIGHT to IHOP this time, or are we gonna take another detour?

 **AMY** : straight to ihop. tho we might wanna make another trip to lucille’s soon i mean,,, they’ve got A Lot of stuff for couples so, y’know  
nudge nudge wink wink

 **BETH** : Deal.

 **AMY** : ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ

* * *

**DARYL** : hey  
on my way over

 **BETH** : Good timing. Glenn just took Maggie out for a date.

 **DARYL** : yeah he might’ve given me a heads-up earlier

 **BETH** : Oh my GOD.

 **DARYL** : shut the hell up, i didn’t wanna climb thru ur damn window

 **BETH** : It woulda been kinda romantic.

 **DARYL** : yeah u know what else is romantic, is me not bustin a fuckin hip or smthn ‘cause i walked in the front door instead of scalin the side of ur damn house

 **BETH** : Always so pragmatic.

 **DARYL** : weren’t sayin that shit when i got my hand down your pants in the middle of ur driveway

 **BETH** : Hey, I didn’t say I don’t /like/ you pragmatic.  
But, yeah, that was pretty good, too. :)

 **DARYL** : only pretty good, huh?

 **BETH** : Probably would’ve been better if I could’ve got you upstairs after.

 **DARYL** : think we might be able to do smthn about that tonight

 **BETH** : I’m sure countin’ on it, Mr. Dixon, sir.

 **DARYL** : think ur fuckin funny, don’t u?

 **BETH** : Just teasin’ you, is all.

 **DARYL** : guess u might as well get that shit outta your system. ain’t gonna give you a damn minute to do that shit once i walk in that door

 **BETH** : NOW who’s teasing??

 **DARYL** : ain’t. i’m fuckin serious girl  
you best have those jeans undone when you answer the door. you been messin with me all damn day, i ain’t wastin time

 **BETH** : Wasn’t /messin/ with you. You’re just gonna have to get used to me talkin to you like that now that I know you like me.

 **DARYL** : pretty smug about that, huh?

 **BETH** : Little bit, yeah. :)

 **DARYL** : yeah, guess i know the feeling

 **BETH** : Now, Mr. Dixon, if you’re gonna go and sweet-talk me like that, I’ll answer the door without a stitch on me if that’s what you want.

 **DARYL** : uh

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : if that’s, uh  
if you wanna

 **BETH** : Guess you’ll see when you get here.

 **DARYL** : this you teasin me again?

 **BETH** : Well, it ain’t really a tease if I give you what you want, is it?

 **DARYL** : already gave me what i want

 **BETH** : Yeah? What’s that?

 **DARYL** : jesus

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : you

 **BETH** : Oh. 

**BETH** : There you go sweet-talkin me again.

 **DARYL** : yeah well  
guess i just want you to know

 **BETH** : I know. :)

 **DARYL** : so quit bein such a smartass about it

 **BETH** : Jeez, if that’s what you think, ain’t no wonder why it took you so long to catch on that I like you.

 **DARYL** : _typing…_

 **DARYL** : figured it out eventually

 **BETH** : Yeah, after I pounced on you.

 **DARYL** : yeah well i ain’t gonna complain if you wanna do that shit again

 **BETH** : I’ll keep that in mind when I answer the door in a few minutes, then.  
See you soon. x

 **DARYL** : bet your ass u will

 **BETH** : <3

* * *

**AMY** : [ATTACHMENT: >LINK: Quad City DJs: “Space Jam”<]

 **AMY** : y’know, to set ~The Mood

 **AMY** : ( •_•)>⌐■-■

  
(⌐■_■)

  
ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ


End file.
